The Return of the Dragon King
by Graf Eisen III
Summary: Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen should have died with their mother. But a lion chose to be lion instead of a serpent, and in so doing changed the course of history.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, names, and any copyrighted material used in this work. This is a fanfic, period. Everything belongs to their respective owners. Comments and constructive criticism are all very much appreciated.

The Return of the Dragon King

Prologue

Aerys Targaryen, the Second of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms tumbled down the stairs of the dais upon which the Iron Throne rested, and leaving a bloody smear on the stone floor. Ser Jaime Lannister breathed slowly and heavily as he stood on the stone steps, his sword dripping with the fallen king's blood, and he slowly turned his head to gaze upon the Iron Throne.

Countless swords fused together by dragonfire, beaten into the shape of a throne to represent Aegon the Conqueror's unification by force of the lands of Westeros centuries ago, and as a reminder to his descendants that no king should sit easy. How unfortunate though that so many of them seemed to forget that second part.

For a moment Jaime wondered how it would feel like to sit on the throne, and then he looked at the fallen king's dead body. And then he looked back at the throne, and then in the direction of the windows and the sound of the city beyond being put to the sword by the army of the west.

House Lannister's army…his father's army…

Jaime glanced back at King Aerys as he lay dead on the ground, and then back to the Iron Throne. Unbidden he heard the words of Prince Rhaegar ghost through his mind, the same words he had spoken before he had gone to that bloody field in the north.

 _I leave my family in your care Ser Jaime._

Jaime closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. The choice was made. The white cloak of the Kingsguard billowing behind him and without bothering to sheath his sword, Jaime rushed out of the throne room and ran for the Maidenvault. If his father would go to such ends to curry favour with the Lord Baratheon, then there was no doubt what fate would befall the Crown Princess and her children at the hands of his father's bannermen.

Heedless of what few, terrified servants were left trying to hide or flee the Red Keep or the sounds of fighting elsewhere, Jaime swept through the stone halls. As he turned the corner leading to Princess Elia's chambers he heard a door breaking down, followed by the shouting of a terrified yet defiant woman. With mounting horror Jaime saw that it was the princess' door, and he ran as fast as he could.

" _Gregor Clegane…_ " he thought in disgust as he ran over the ruined door. " _…a brutishly pathetic excuse for a lord and more so for a knight…_ "

"Get away from her!" Jaime roared as he spotted the giant brute reach for the princess and her son, trapped as they were in a corner. Gregor turned his head and raised his sword at Jaime's shout, but Jaime was already moving, dropping to one knee and swinging at Gregor's knee.

With his back turned to Jaime, the Kingsguard's sword easily sliced into the gap between armour plating, and separated the man's leg from his thigh. Roaring in pain and fury, Gregor fell…and with a shout of fury Jaime finished the job, stabbing down at his neck and twisting the blade. Through the man's visor Jaime could see the so-called Mountain's eyes widen in shock before going dark.

"Ser Jaime…" Elia began weakly as Jaime pulled his sword out. The knight looked at her.

"My princess…" he said breathlessly. "…hurry…go and find something to cover yourself with… I will go and find Rhaenys. We must leave, and soon."

Elia nodded and rushed to her cabinets but not before shouting after Jaime that Rhaenys had gone and hidden herself in her father's chambers. Jaime was grateful, as he'd probably have wasted time looking elsewhere.

A shrill scream sounded as Jaime approached the crown prince's chambers, and while later on Jaime would wonder with morbid amusement at how he always seemed to be arriving at the nick of time, at the time he only felt urgency. He turned the door and spotted yet another one of the pathetic excuses that passed for knights in Westeros: Ser Amory Lorch.

And he was raising a dagger over the desperately-struggling form of the princess.

"No…!" Jaime shouted as he ran forward, Lorch looking up in surprise. And then the man was screaming as Jaime's sword cut of his hand at the wrist, Rhaenys scrambling away and pressing herself against a wall as Jaime used his sword's pommel to hammer Lorch away.

"Ser Jaime…why…? Your father…"

He didn't get to finish, as Jaime cut off his head with one swing. Footsteps caught his attention, and he turned only to see Varys the Master of Whisperers followed by a cloaked and hooded Elia with Aegon in her arms. Now openly crying, Rhaenys rushed to her mother.

"Ser Jaime…well done…come, we must hurry." Varys said, beckoning him to follow. Jaime obliged, the Kingsguard and the Targaryens following in his wake as the eunuch led them to a door hidden behind a nondescript tapestry, and Jaime unexpectedly thanked the gods for Maegor the Cruel's paranoia. Escaping through the city through his father's army might prove impossible otherwise.

"This passageways leads to a small, out-of-the-way dock behind the castle..." Varys explained. "…the ship there and its crew will take you to Pentos."

"Pentos…?" Elia echoed. "Why not Dorne or Dragonstone…?"

"They will be expecting you to do such, my princess." Varys said. "They will not expect you to go to Pentos however, and while exile is defeat…the war is lost now, but so long as your children live, then perhaps someday they may yet reclaim their birth-right. Please you must hurry."

Elia nodded and entered the passageway. Jaime hesitated however. "You're not coming with us…?" he asked the eunuch, and he smiled sadly.

"My place is here…" Varys said. "…and here I can do more to aid the dragons' cause than by their side."

Jaime nodded, and entered the passageway. Varys shut the door behind him, and Jaime ran after the princess and her children. Several minutes later and they emerged at a hidden dock as Varys had said, but even there the stink of smoke and the sound of screaming and shouting were evident. Rhaenys was crying again, and Elia was as well, but Jaime had no time to attend to them, as several Lannister bannermen had spotted them through windows high up on the castle above and were now trying to find a way down.

"Ser Jaime…" Elia began, but he shook his head.

"Go…" he said. "…I'll hold them off."

Elia held his eyes for several moments, and then giving him a thankful bow rushed up the ramp into the ship as the crew frantically began to cast off. They were but a short distance into the Blackwater before the first Lannister bannermen made their way onto the dock.

One man rushed at Jaime with his sword drawn…and fell as Jaime deftly avoided his clumsy swing and disembowelled the man. He parried a few strokes from the next man before braining him, and then ran a third man through. They kept on coming, but the corpses just kept on falling and the blood pooled on the dock and down into the waters of the Blackwater, until eventually he fell beneath their weight, a clubbing motion the last he would see before darkness claimed him.

* * *

"Why…?"

Jaime Lannister glanced at his father through the bars of his cell beneath the Red Keep. He'd been in there for several days now, and while he'd been stripped of weapons and armour he'd been surprisingly treated well.

No surprise there though: his father's bannermen knew better than to incur their lord's wrath by mistreating his son, and even though he'd heard through the guards' conversations that the Storm Lord had since arrived, even then the man who would usurp the Targaryen throne and his men would not want to make an enemy of Tywin Lannister.

"Why what…?" Jaime asked back.

"Don't ask stupid questions." Tywin growled. "Why did you help Rhaegar's family escape? And after killing Aerys too…"

"Aerys was mad." Jaime interrupted. "He would have burned the city down with Wildfire if I hadn't killed him, and his name would have gone down in history as that of a monster. So I did my duty, and preserved what little good there was to his name, and did the same by saving Princess Elia and her children."

"You fool…" Tywin growled, his voice simmering with rage. "…your duty…you have put everything at risk…your sister may yet be queen, but we would be fortunate if Robert does not simply have you executed for aiding his enemies!"

"And what was I supposed to do?" Jaime asked coldly. "Let that pig Amory Lorch kill a child of three years? Leave Princess Elia and her son to the tender mercies of the Mountain?"

"Yes!" Tywin roared. "For the sake of your family, yes…! Your sister, queen! You released from your oaths and free to take your rightful place as my heir…! A dynasty of lions who would rule for a thousand years and more! All you had to do was to let them die!"

"Then how different are you from the Mad King?" Jaime shouted back, and Tywin looked as though Jaime had slapped him. Father and son stared coldly at each other, but it was Tywin who looked away first, walking away without another word.

* * *

Jaime stayed in his cell for several more days before finally being brought before Robert Baratheon, now calling himself the King of the Seven Kingdoms. And standing protectively before the throne was his former brother in the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy. The sight nearly broke Jaime's heart, even as the guards forced him onto his knees before the throne.

 _Barristan the Bold…how the mighty have fallen…_

"Ser Jaime Lannister…" Lord Jon Arryn began, now apparently the Usurper's Hand. "…you have undoubtedly acted against the interests of His Grace, the King of the Seven Kingdoms Robert Baratheon the First of his Name however His Grace cannot deny that your actions were merely in line with your duty as a sworn brother of the Kingsguard."

Jaime said nothing as Jon Arryn paused, and after a moment the Hand of the King continued. "His Grace has also been made aware of the reasons for your slaying of the late Aerys Targaryen…" Jon Arryn said. "…and as such he has no regret in granting you mercy and pardon for the crime of regicide. In recognition of your dedication to your duty, he would offer you a place in his Kingsguard, or if you so wish, he would release you from your oaths and to go wherever you so wish as a free man. What say you, Ser Jaime Lannister?"

Jaime said nothing, though he made to rise. The guards immediately placed their hands on his shoulders, but nothing more at a gesture from the Hand. Another gesture and he was allowed to rise. Jaime looked around, noting the notables in the court, including his father…and his sister. The former's eyes were cold, but the latter was almost obvious in her pleading expectation that he bend knee.

He almost did, but then he glanced at the throne and the Usurper seated upon it, and he remembered Amory Lorch and Gregor Clegane, and the sad expression on the princess' face when he had told her to leave him behind. Jaime smiled, and everyone else visibly relaxed, as though expecting him to simply roll over.

 _The lion bows to no one, save for the dragon._

Jaime spat on the ground before the dais and all upon and before it, and the guards promptly beat him onto the floor at this great insult to their king. Audible gasps could be heard, and Cersei looked away while Tywin ground his teeth. Barristan looked mournful, while Jon Arryn looked apprehensively at Robert as he rose from the Iron Throne, his thunderous face showing temper barely held in check.

"I show you mercy…" he spat. "…and this is how you return it? I should take your head for this!"

Cersei whimpered at that, but Tywin was unmoved. And neither was Jaime.

"Well Kingslayer? Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

"You're no dragon." Jaime growled. "Dragons forged that throne, and only they deserve it! You're a usurper, nothing more and nothing else!"

"Enough…!" Robert roared. "Guards, take him away! Throw him in the Black Cells and let him rot!"

The guards pulled Jaime up and frogmarched him away, but not before Jaime sent another gobbet of spit in Robert's direction. As whispering and murmurs broke out, and Jon Arryn and Robert began a hushed yet heated discussion between them, Ser Barristan Selmy the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard could only look away in shame.

* * *

"Jaime, why…?"

"Why are you here sister?"

"You know why!" Cersei Lannister, now Queen of the Seven Kingdoms shouted at her twin. "Why can't you understand? All you have to do is bend knee! Swear allegiance to Robert! And then you'll be out of this cell. You'll be free. Free to be with me…"

Jaime glanced at his sister at that, and after a moment he rose from his cot and stepped closer. Brother and sister looked at each other in the eyes, hands caressing each other's faces. "Please Jaime…" Cersei whispered. "…do it for me, if nothing else…"

Jaime pulled his sister into an embrace despite the bars between them. "I love you…" he whispered, kissing her golden hair that was so much like his own. "…and I always will. But you know I can't…"

Cersei gasped, and pushed Jaime away, shaking her head in denial. "Why?" she asked, tears running down her cheeks.

Jaime smiled sadly. "It's not something that can be explained so simply." He answered, and after a moment Cersei nodded and left, crying quietly to herself and leaving Jaime alone.

* * *

It had been months since then, and now Jaime found himself being brought before Robert Baratheon once more. The Kingsguard was complete now, as was the Small Council. His father was missing this time, but his sister now sat where the queen customarily sat, to the left of the Iron Throne.

The guards left him to stand alone – bound of course – before the Iron Throne, something that caught Jaime by surprise. And then Jon Arryn began to speak.

"Ser Jaime Lannister…" he said. "…your loyalty to the Targaryen Dynasty does you credit, but times have changed. Things have changed. The Targaryen Dynasty is overthrown, and its claims on the Seven Kingdoms rendered void and unbinding. End this futile obstinacy, and…"

"The White Bull…" Jaime interrupted. "…the Sword of the Morning…Prince Lewyn of Dorne…Ser Jonothor Darry…Ser Oswell Whent…great and good men all of them, greater than I am, greater than most men in this time and age."

Barristan Selmy looked away in shame, and Jaime continued. "You would ask me to break my oaths…" he said. "…to bend knee to the Usurper…"

"Watch your tongue Lannister…" Robert growled. "…or I'll have it cut out for you…"

"…I could never face their shades if I do as you ask of me." Jaime finished. "I would sooner take the black than shame their memories."

Jon Arryn made to speak, only to be cut off as Robert rose from the Iron Throne. The throne room had gone silent, save for the quiet sobbing of Cersei Lannister. "If that is your wish…" he growled. "…let me grant it for you. Rot with rapists and murderers, and see where your loyalty to the dragonspawn led you! Take him away!"

Guards did as their king commanded, and Jaime did nothing as they did so.

* * *

Days later and Jaime was led chained to a ship in the morning twilight. The ship was small, and the crew cloaked and hooded in black, so Jaime naturally assumed that he was being led to the Wall. He was a bit surprised to find no one else being led into the ship, but he assumed that this was some final courtesy from his sister, that his journey would be made not in the company of others so far beneath him.

" _Farewell sweet sister…_ " Jaime thought as his door was barred behind him, the sounds of the crew taking on supplies and casting off echoing through the hull. " _…I hope you have a happy life…brothers, wherever you are I hope I did your memory proud, and will continue to do so._ "

It was not until hours later that Jaime's brooding was broken, and he was led up to the deck. The ship was heading northeast it seemed based on the position of the Sun and the assumed time, much to his surprise, the sails angled into the wind. He was even more surprised to see Barristan eating bread and salted meat at a makeshift table, and to have his chains unlocked and his sword returned to him.

The man smiled encouragingly – _approvingly –_ at him, and then left to attend to other matters. Jaime approached his brother. "Isn't the Wall supposed to be to the north?" he asked.

"It is."

"And yet we head to the north _and_ east."

"We are."

Jaime chuckled, wondering what his brother was playing at. He could guess though.

"I wasn't aware that Kingsguard escort convicts to the Wall."

"They don't." Barristan said. "They do their duty to their king. And right now our duty is to safely deliver Prince Viserys Targaryen and his sister Princess Daenerys Targaryen from Braavos to their family in Pentos, Princesses Elia Martell and Rhaenys Targaryen, and His Grace King Aegon Targaryen the Sixth of his Name."

"I see."

Jaime chuckled, and then leaned against the rail. His smile faded after a moment. "Perhaps…" he said softly. "…if I had been there…if we had all been there…then things would have been different."

"Aye, perhaps it would…" Barristan agreed.

Nothing more was said. And nothing more needed to be said.

* * *

A/N

Different to _Spoils for the Dragon King_ , still with a Targaryen restoration as the end game and with the Targaryens still surviving for the most part, but with fewer assets at their disposal: they don't have a separate nation of their own, and are closer to their canon situation.

Cersei might be a bit OOC here, but personally I find it implied here and there that she used to be different long before the events of the novels begin, and her current characterization is born out of cynicism and bitterness at the twisted nature of her family life: a husband who doesn't love her/she doesn't love, and one who constantly dishonours her, the pressures of being queen and hiding her love for Jaime, etc…


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, names, and any copyrighted material used in this work. This is a fanfic, period. Everything belongs to their respective owners. Comments and constructive criticism are all very much appreciated.

The Return of the Dragon King

Chapter 1

"Jon Arryn is dead."

Prince Viserys Targaryen surveyed the rest of his family as they sat in a well-furnished room in Magister Illyrio Mopatis' manse in Pentos, which had been their home in exile for the past fifteen years. The rest of House Targaryen's members stared at him. At length Crown Prince Aegon Targaryen the Prince of Dragonstone (Aegon found the title of 'king' as ill-omened without having claimed the throne first) nodded slowly.

"And…?" he prompted. "Lord Arryn was old, but not _that_ old. He shouldn't have just died, and if it was a disease, we'd have heard of it long before now. This reeks of a scheme."

"I agree." Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, Aegon's older sister, said with a nod. "And I don't like it. Our plans are quite delicate enough as they stand, and we don't need someone else rocking the boat along."

Viserys' face tightened at the reminder of the derailment of their plan during the previous year by Jon Arryn's foresighted arrangement of a marriage between Prince Renly Baratheon and Lady Margaery Tyrell, something that had infuriated the elder Targaryen prince. The plan had been for him to wed Princess Arianne Martell, Rhaenys to Lord Willas Tyrell, and Daenerys to Renly (and hopefully keep the Stormlands neutral considering Renly's – and Stannis' – less-than-warm relationship with their brother). Jon Arryn's diplomacy had left that plan dead in the water, and had raised questions about the reliability of the Tyrells.

A marriage between Rhaenys and Willas was still on the table, but not nearly as concrete as it would otherwise be as a result.

"Unless you were behind this, uncle…?"

"No…" Viserys answered Rhaenys with a shake of his head. "…as much as I'd love to have given the order to take Jon Arryn's head and thus depriving the Usurper of his Hand, I was not. Killing Jon Arryn now serves no purpose, and risks too much if it was discovered."

"Then who…?" Aegon pressed, and Viserys turned to a dwarf seated behind him.

"The ones who serve to benefit the most from this development is House Stark." Tyrion Lannister said, rising from his seat. "It is no secret that Lord Stark is the Usurper's most trusted friend, and the closest to him barring the late Lord Arryn. As a matter of fact our friend in King's Landing has also informed us that once the official mourning is over, the Usurper plans to take his family on a visit to the North, and to ask Lord Stark to take up the position of his Hand."

"Lord Stark…? Hand of the King…?" Princess Elia Martell gaped. "Lord Stark is a most principled man, worthy of respect but…he does not strike me as political enough to handle court affairs, much less matters pertaining to the realm as a whole. For the North his talents are sufficient, but the North has always been…different to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Quite…" Tyrion agreed. "…and Lord Stark would never even consider assassinating Lord Arryn. The Usurper is not the only one who was attached to the late lord."

Aegon narrowed his eyes. "No offense Tyrion…" he said politely, though it was unnecessary as it was no secret just what Tyrion thought of his family outside of his brother Jaime. "…but the only other ones who would stand to gain from Lord Arryn's death would be House Lannister."

"Normally I would agree but…" Tyrion paused and fumbled for a moment before shaking his head. "…I can see Cersei doing this, as part of some scheme to reduce her husband's already-tenuous grip over his court and increase her own, but she would never do something of this scale without father's approval. And much like us, Jon Arryn's death now is of no purpose to House Lannister. Perhaps if the Usurper is dead, and Cersei's spoiled brat Joffrey is king, then he might, no _probably_ would engineer Lord Arryn's death to become Hand himself and strengthen Lannister influence over the throne. But right now it would make no sense for father to do something like this."

"A third party…" Viserys' sister Princess Daenerys 'Dany' Targaryen spoke up. "…we didn't do it, and neither the Starks nor the Lannisters would despite the obvious pointing to either of them."

"Our friend agrees." Viserys said with a nod. "He said he would look into the matter, and for us to keep our eyes open."

"I will speak with the magister then." Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of the loyalist Kingsguard said.

"I'll leave it to you then, Ser Barristan." Aegon said, and the elderly knight bowed. There had been some…concern on Viserys' and Elia's parts about Barristan's loyalty as he had briefly bent knee to the Usurper, but Jaime had vouched for the man, and ultimately it was decided that given his experience and expertise he would remain as part of the Kingsguard.

As for Jaime himself, while Viserys and Daenerys would never forget that he was the one who had killed their father, his loyalty to the family had been proven to be absolute. As such he had been pardoned of regicide, and remained in the Kingsguard.

"What do we do now?" Rhaenys asked, and Viserys cleared his throat before continuing.

"For now we keep our eyes open." He said. "However my intuition tells me that things are starting to move to our advantage. I will consult with Prince Doran, but I've already sent word for Lord Connington to inform the Golden Company just in case. There's been no reply yet, but I have the utmost faith in Lord Connington."

Viserys smiled slightly at the strange nature of House Targaryen's allies. Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime, who under normal circumstances would have been sent to the Wall in lieu of execution for past actions but with their extenuating circumstances…the Golden Company which had traditionally fought under a black dragon would be fighting under the red dragon when the time came…and Lord Connington who had been exiled by Viserys' father for failure but whose loyalty could not be questioned: as one from the Stormlands and one who'd been exiled by King Aerys II he could have come back to Westeros with a good chance for pardon and restitution, but had chosen continued exile until House Targaryen had need of him.

There was Tyrion Lannister, who'd somehow managed to make his way to Pentos barely a year after their exile had begun, as a boy of eleven. Distrusted initially for his family name, given the lack of filial affection between him and his father Viserys and Elia had chosen to give him a chance, and he'd soon proven his worth as an intelligent adviser to House Targaryen.

And there was Dorne, which among the Seven Kingdoms had bitterly opposed Targaryen sovereignty the longest but was now their trusted ally.

 _Strange times…strange allies…_

"Well that's all I really had to say for now…" Viserys said with a nod, and his family and their allies dispersed. Aegon and Rhaenys walked off, the former inviting the latter for a spar, while Tyrion went off to find his brother. Dany wandered off somewhere, and Barristan went to meet with their host. Viserys however made to intercept Elia.

"Sister…" he said. "…I'd appreciate it if you could help me pen my letter to your brother."

Elia considered for a moment, and then nodded before following Viserys to the prince's study.

* * *

"Really…that sounds…very interesting…"

Jaime didn't sound particularly interested, though it wasn't too surprising. The Kingslayer was busy watching a spar between fellow Kingsguard members Prince Quentyn Martell and Lady Nymeria Sand, while Kingsguard member Lady Obara Sand watched. Aegon and Rhaenys were also there watching, having arrived for a spar of their own even as Tyrion had found Jaime, only to find their Kingsguard's members already sparring away.

Tyrion rolled his eyes before taking an offered flagon of wine from a servant and filling a cup for himself. "And you sound so interested too, dear brother." He said, and Jaime nodded as the match ended in a draw, Quentyn knocking his cousin to the ground and holding his sword's point just a couple of inches from her throat…and with Nymeria holding a long-bladed (and no doubt poisoned) dagger about as close to her cousin's crotch.

"You'd both be dead." Jaime said neutrally as he approached, Quentyn helping Nymeria Sand. "Nymeria would be choking on her blood while Quentyn would die screaming like a girl…"

The Kingslayer smiled as Quentyn scowled at his words. "I've seen someone get his cock cut off before." He said. "Well not really…more of a bannerman pointing his spear too low and catching a charging bandit in the crotch. Not pretty…and very noisy…"

Jaime paused as he turned serious again. "With that said…" he continued. "…as far as I'm concerned this match is a good reminder for both of you. You are Kingsguard, the last line of defence for House Targaryen, and getting yourselves killed is not your duty. Quentyn, don't rush in too quickly, not unless you're sure the enemy is completely helpless, or finish them off cleanly. Nymeria…play to your strengths. Quentyn is stronger than you are, but you are faster. The same will be the case for most enemies you'll have to face in the future. Understand…?"

"Yes Ser Jaime."

"Good…my prince and princess, you were going to have a spar of your own…?"

As Rhaenys and Aegon took their places in the middle of the training room, Jaime retook his place beside his brother. "Any suspicions…?" he asked.

"So you were listening."

This time it was Jaime's turn to roll his eyes. "Yes Tyrion, I was listening." He said. "So do you have any suspicions as to who this third party might be?"

"A few…" Tyrion answered. "…there's the Iron Bank as a warning to the Usurper about the insanity that is his reign's finances and the rapidly-waning possibility of payment…our friend himself…House Tyrell as a means to open up a chance for Renly ascending to the throne…even Stannis as a means of getting back at his brother…"

Jaime grinned. "Sounds far-fetched…" he quipped, and laughed as Tyrion also gave a barking laugh.

"I won't deny that." Tyrion agreed. "In fact most of my suspects are far-fetched, so much so that I can safely disregard them. I daresay dragons – as in literal, fire-breathing dragons – returning would be more believable than most of my suspicions."

"You don't sound happy." Jaime said, watching as Aegon parried his sister's sword and dove in for the kill, only for the older girl to shoulder him away while his stance was ever-so-slightly off and buying time for her to recover. "I wouldn't expect you to be though."

"And you shouldn't." Tyrion said with another drink of wine. "Getting the dragons back where they belong will be hard enough, to say nothing of putting the Seven Kingdoms back together after the Usurper's disaster of a reign. We don't need someone else making things even harder than it already is."

"No, we certainly don't."

* * *

"You wanted to see me, my prince?" Tyrion said with a bow as he quietly entered Viserys' study later that evening.

The prince was standing by the window, a glass of wine held in one hand as he stared out over the city of Pentos in the Moonlight. "Dragons…" the prince said softly, and Tyrion blinked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"My sister dreams of dragons." Viserys said. "Fire and blood she says, that all she says the answer is. She dreams of a great-looking man burning in a pyre, and a hag burning with him as a funeral sacrifice…and…three dragons born from fire and blood…"

Tyrion's face stayed carefully neutral, and Viserys continued after a moment without looking at him. "I know better of course." He said. "It's not like my family hasn't tried to hatch dragons before. Aegon III had foreign mages try and fail to accomplish it for him, that fool Baelor prayed to his false gods of stone, and Prince Aerion drank Wildfire and died screaming."

Viserys drained his glass and set it down on a nearby table, finally looking at Tyrion. "And of course…" he said. "…I have not forgotten Summerhall, where Aegon V and his sons perished in fire and sorcery."

Tyrion stayed silent.

"Dragons…if we had them our task would be so much easier." Viserys said, pacing before his window. "But we don't have them. And we don't have the luxury to try and see whether or not my sister's dreams have any meaning behind them."

Tyrion blinked and drew himself at that, and Viserys' lips twitched into a faint smile. "You have something to say my lord?" he asked.

"You believe that your sister's dreams might have meaning behind them?" Tyrion asked, and Viserys chuckled.

"Come now, Tyrion…" Viserys said. "…you're an educated man. You know of my ancestor, Daenys the Dreamer."

"True…" Tyrion agreed with a series of nods. "…but as you say we have not the luxury to determine whether or not your sister possesses the gift of foresight."

"Indeed…" Viserys agreed. "…but one can hope. Perhaps…when we have the luxury…who knows? Now then, down to business and worry not it will be brief."

"Of course my prince…"

"There is a certain subject I have yet to discuss with you and your brother." Viserys began while pouring a glass of wine for Tyrion. "I have discussed them quite a few times with Elia, and discreetly with Prince Doran. They concern your family."

"I have no doubt that you intend to take my father's head, and while I believe that Jaime would ask for at least the justice of a trial, I would not oppose such a measure. And I do not believe many others would. My father had nothing to with the quarrel between your elder brother and the Usurper, and as such his actions – especially in light of my sister's current position – cannot be seen as anything but interested."

"My good-sister advocates for a trial and so does her brother." Viserys said, pacing once more. "What about you?"

Tyrion paused to think about it for a moment, and then he gave a slow nod. "We should at least give the impression of following the form of how things should be done…" he said. "…assuming of course my father does not fall on the battlefield."

"Easier said than done…" Viserys snorted. "…your father is a proven battle commander. I doubt even the Usurper could thwart him on the field, or indeed any other save perhaps Lord Tarly."

Viserys took a deep breath. "My nephew is also of the same opinion…" he revealed. "…which is unusual considering Rhaenys simply wishes him done away as a rabid dog."

"How vindictive…" Tyrion observed before taking a swallow of wine. "…and how unusual how she diverges from her brother's opinion: they usually mirror each other's opinions, nothing unusual seeing how…close they are…"

"Indeed…" Viserys said with a nod. "…I agree with Rhaenys on a personal note, but I cannot afford to be clouded by personal bias. And neither can Aegon, lest we be seen as no better than the Usurper. The man lets the sack of a city and the attempted murder of children go simply so he can spite my dear brother's memory – not that Rhaegar was entirely blameless – and calls us dragonspawn _despite_ being kin through his Targaryen grandmother."

Tyrion stayed silent, drinking another mouthful of wine as Viserys brooded. The prince was undoubtedly Aerys' son, and Tyrion at times feared that the pressures of exile would bring forth the dreaded Targaryen madness much as Duskendale had done for his father. Thankfully between Elia's influence, his discreet correspondence with Arianne, and the fact that the burden of being king lay on his nephew's head as opposed to his, it meant that Viserys was able to think rationally even if he had to exert effort to keep his temper and impulses in check.

"Your sister will be sent north, to the Twins, in Genna Lannister's custody to spend the rest of her days in exile." Viserys finally said. "Joffrey will be made to take the Black, and Tommen may choose to do so as well or to take a maester's vows."

"A maester…?" Tyrion echoed, and Viserys an eyebrow.

"Is there a problem?"

"You distrust maesters and yet you intend to give them one of the biggest threats to your nephew's claim to the throne."

"Then I hope for their sake they would not give me an excuse not to take that senile traitor Pycelle's betrayal as anything but personal. There are rumours that I am sure you have heard about their…complicity in the destruction of my family's dragons. Rumours are dangerous things and I know better than to act on them, but they'd best pray to whatever false gods or goddesses they have that they remain false, or I shall see that they be delivered unto R'hllor's judgment for their treason."

"And Myrcella…?"

"A marriage to someone of my nephew's choice…" Viserys said. "…or if she so wishes she may become a Septa or become a Silent Sister. She's not a real threat, at least not when compared to her brothers."

"I see. Well my prince I don't see any difficulties with your plans, and I doubt Jaime would either. But first we must regain the Iron Throne, and before that we must deal with my father and before him the Usurper himself."

"Quite…" Viserys said with a nod. "…your loyalty, advice, and friendship over the years have been something of a comfort. I would not wish to lay the foundation for future distrust over the disposition of your sister and her children."

Tyrion sighed, and swirled his wine in its glass. "To be honest my prince…" he began. "…I wish Tommen and Myrcella would have different fates, as according to our friend they aren't spoiled as Joffrey is, but…we must do what we must. And you are showing them mercy, which is more than what my father would have and has done to your family. If not for my brother's loyalty…"

Tyrion trailed off, but Viserys didn't say anything. He didn't need to after all. He knew quite well what Tyrion meant. At length Tyrion sighed and raised his glass. "To your health my prince…" he said before draining his glass and with a nod from Viserys, took his leave.

* * *

A/N

It is 297 AC. Rhaenys is seventeen, Aegon is fifteen, Dany is thirteen, and Viserys is twenty-one. Yes, Viserys isn't insane. He's still driven though, but in a good way…sort-off…

Yes, the Targaryens don't follow the Faith of the Seven, and follow the Lord of Light instead which could cause trouble later on, but we'll see. Minor spoiler: Mel will be showing up eventually. BTW, are the priests and priestesses of the Lord of Light required to be unmarried like Septons and Septas? Obviously they've got nothing against warrior-priests like Thoros or sorceress-priestesses like Mel (who is hardly chaste), but marriage…? Help…please…?

Yes, it's a Tyrion POV again. I really like that guy.


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, names, and any copyrighted material used in this work. This is a fanfic, period. Everything belongs to their respective owners. Comments and constructive criticism are all very much appreciated.

The Return of the Dragon King

Chapter 2

"I had a dream last night."

"Really…" Robb Stark replied dully, raising his sword to parry his half-brother's strike. He stepped back a step and to the side, letting Jon force his sword down before stepping forward and running his sword up Jon's sword towards the other man's waist. Jon fell back, his sword rising in a circle and parrying Robb's counterattack while stepping back, sword held in a low guard before him. "…what's it about?"

"And you sound so interested too." Jon lamented, and Robb grinned.

"That's only because you only ever talk about _that_ dream." he said as he launched an attack of his own, swinging his sword several times and parried each and every time by Jon.

Jon Snow snorted as he forced Robb's sword to ground before driving his pommel towards Robb's belly. The other man jumped back, his sword held low. "I've still no idea why she cries." He said. "Or why father gets so disturbed about the whole thing."

Though to be fair, it _was_ a fairly disturbing dream even by Jon's reckoning. He'd had it for a long time, ever since he was a child in fact, and never once did it change. It always involved him standing in the fog under a cloudy yet Moonlit sky, and then gliding through the fog to stand before him was a pale-skinned woman with long dark hair cloaked and hooded in black. What could be seen of her face seemed eerily familiar, and the same went for her voice.

"What is your name?" she would always ask, and Jon despite his fear would always feel obliged to answer.

"Where are your parents?" she would then ask, and again Jon would answer. Weeping, the woman would then vanish into the fog, leaving Jon to awake in his bed breathing hard and dripping with sweat.

Thankfully it only happened ever so often, but it still disturbed him to no end.

Most people were of no help. His father seemed disturbed by it, but could offer nothing more than half-thoughts about the old stories of greenseers and magic. Arya was sympathetic but could do little more than comfort Jon by talking to him about it. She was probably just indulging him, but he was gratified nevertheless.

Sansa much like Lady Stark, while somewhat sympathetic, were both dismissive of his dreams. The same went for the maester and the septas and septons. For them dreams were just dreams, nothing more and nothing less. They would pass in time, and were nothing to worry about.

Theon being Theon saw it as Jon having a closeted desire to bed a Silent Sister. Jon would have pummelled him for it had Robb not restrained him…and their father having overheard. Lord Stark was not amused to say the least. Theon would later remark that he'd never see a Silent Sister the same way ever again – outside of Lord Stark's hearing – before following the same line as Sansa and Lady Stark.

Bran and Rickon…well Jon didn't really want to scare them with dreams of women in black in the night. He doubted he'd get much thanks if they got nightmares thanks to him.

"I'd be more concerned why she asks in the first place." Robb ventured, moving into a high guard before exchanging a few strikes with Jon.

"So you've said in the past." Jon agreed.

"Still…if you were a greenseer…"

Jon snorted at that. "Right…" he said sceptically. "…and the White Walkers are going to march on the Wall come winter. Come on Robb, magic's been gone for a long time so the maesters say. It died with the dragons, so I've about as much chance being a greenseer as the Targaryens managing to get their hands on dragons."

"Or for that matter…" Robb ventured with a nod and a grin. "…getting the Iron Throne back…"

"Fat chance of that happening…" Jon said with a laugh.

"Hardly the most appropriate topic wouldn't you think boys?" Catelyn Stark remarked as she walked across the yard towards them. Robb and Jon immediately stepped back, the latter giving a small bow which Catelyn barely acknowledged. "The King's almost here, so come on Robb, get ready."

"Yes mother."

With a nod at Jon Robb went off to prepare, and Catelyn fixed her usual cold gaze on Jon. "And you as well boy." She said, and Jon gave a bow.

"Yes Lady Stark."

* * *

" _That's the King…?_ " Jon thought as he watched from the side-lines with the rest of the Winterfell Household as the King rode into Winterfell with his Kingsguard, followed by his family and retinue. " _I've heard the rumours but…he's so_ _ **FAT**_ _. Is this really the man who slew Prince Rhaegar at the Trident?_ "

As Jon and the rest of the Household looked on, the King dismounted before Eddard 'Ned' Stark and the rest of his family, who bowed before the King. King Robert Baratheon stared at Ned in the eyes as the latter straightened, and beginning what seemed to be a battle of wills that surprised Jon.

 _Weren't father and the King supposed to be friends?_

Suddenly the King spoke up. "You got fat." He said.

Ned's response was to impudently look up and down the King's own form. Suddenly smiles split their faces, and with a burst of laughter the tension melted and Ned and Robert warmly embraced each other. "You're looking well Robert." Ned said.

"Likewise Ned…" Robert said before looking over to the Starks. He paused as the carriage behind him opened, and Queen Cersei Baratheon stepped out, a veiled expression of superiority on her face. Belatedly Jon realized that also riding with the Kingsguard in ornate plate was Crown Prince Joffrey Baratheon, ice-cold Lannister eyes staring out from a distinctly-Baratheon face.

Something about the way the crown prince and his mother looked at their surroundings felt off to Jon, until he realized that they were being judged, and unfavourably at that. Needless to say, he wasn't amused.

Winterfell might not be as grand as some of the halls of the south, but it was a place with a long and proud history – and he might even say longer than any hall of the south given Winterfell had been raised by the First Men long before the Andals came to Westeros, even as the Valyrians themselves had yet to overcome the Ghiscari and reach the peak of their power – and more importantly than that, it was home. And they were his family's guests.

Queen (or heir to the throne) or not, they shouldn't judge.

Jon pushed that thought aside his father presented his family to the royal family. Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella like their elder brother were predominantly Baratheon in appearance, save for their eyes. Lannister eyes…

 _Not as judgmental as their mother or elder brother…in fact they seem quite fascinated by what's around them. Well fair enough, the North is quite different from the lands of the south, and I'm sure those unfamiliar with it would find it fascinating._

Jon's thoughts broke off as he heard the King begin to speak, apparently looking for someone else. Strange, the Starks were all…

"Jon…" Ned suddenly called much to Jon's surprise. "…the King wishes to see you. Come here."

Blinking in surprise, and ignoring the veiled displeasure on not just Lady Stark's face but also the queen's, Jon did as his father commanded. King Robert didn't seem to care though.

"So your Ned's bastard eh?" the King said bluntly. "A fine lad regardless…"

"I need for nothing Your Grace." Jon said with a bow. "I could ask for no better father than Lord Stark."

Catelyn't lips twitched, but Robb smiled while giving a sidelong glance at his father. Ned let nothing show on his face, but the relief – and more – was evident in his eyes. Robert just laughed though before patting Jon on the shoulder. "I wouldn't think so!" he said jovially, and patted Jon again as the young man cautiously smiled. "You'll find no man more honourable than him in the realm, and if he took you in, then by the gods he'll see that you get what's yours."

He then glanced at Ned, and something seemed to pass between them. "Well then we've got other things to do." Robert said. "I'll want to talk with you some more boy, so I'll be seeing you tonight, won't I?"

"Your Grace, I…"

"Yes Robert…" Ned cut in. "…Jon will be attending tonight's banquet."

"Good, good…" Robert said. "…now then, shall we go pay our respects?"

Ned nodded his agreement, Cersei speaking up as Robert moved to follow Ned's lead. "Robert…" she began. "…perhaps…"

Robert just waved her off. Ned looked at her apologetically before he glanced at Catelyn who stepped forward with a bow. "If you'll follow me Your Grace…" she began. "…I will show you to your rooms."

"It will be a pleasure Lady Stark." Cersei conceded with a final, scathing glance at her departing husband's back. As the royal party drifted apart – Robb and Theon intercepting Joffrey and leading him away (the former giving Jon a congratulatory nod), Sansa, Bran, and Rickon following their mother, and the Kingsguard trailing after Ned and Robert – Jon found himself alone with Arya.

"Congratulations…" Arya said with a cheeky grin. "…looks like you made impressed the King."

"I'm not certain that's a good thing though." Jon said to her surprise.

"Why not…?" Arya asked.

Jon gave her a look. "I got to invited to tonight's banquet." He said. "You know how Lady Stark feels about these things. And…so does the queen apparently."

Arya looked uncomfortable at that, but at length she shrugged and smiled encouragingly at Jon. "Well father wouldn't really mind…" she pointed out. "…and neither would the King or most of everyone. So why not just enjoy it while you can."

Jon smiled and ruffled Arya's hair to her consternation. "True enough little sister." He said, and they shared a laugh.

* * *

"You don't look like you're enjoying yourself." Jon observed to a sour-looking Arya. The banquet was in full swing, people eating, drinking, talking and laughing all around them in the main hall of Winterfell. Arya's response was to nod in their (well _her_ ) elder sister's direction. "Ah…"

"She's all but throwing herself at Joffrey since the feast started." Arya said, and Jon grinned.

"Jealous…?" he asked, and she looked utterly horrified.

"No! Of course not…! Why would I be jealous?"

"Well you seem unhappy that Joffrey's only paying attention to Sansa so…"

Arya stuck her tongue out at Jon before punching him on the arm. "As if I'd be that shallow…" she said darkly. "…Joffrey is…well I don't like him."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Arya said a shrug and a troubled look on her face. "And that's what worries me. I don't know."

Jon was silent, confused as to whether or not to be amused at his sister's apparent confusion over her antipathy for the crown prince. For a time he discreetly watched the crown prince interact with Sansa, and then he realized it. Joffrey was apparently absorbed into his conversation with Sansa, but…it didn't reach into his eyes. Instead there was…something else there.

And it reminded Jon of Theon and his…adventures with the womenfolk of Winterfell. And he remembered the less…likeable rumours of King Robert, and it all fell into place.

 _Crown prince or not, Robb, I, and perhaps even father are going to have words – and more – with that bastard if he takes advantage of her._

"I see what you mean." He said to Arya, who looked to him in confusion. "He's just like Theon."

For a moment she looked confused, and then realization dawned in her eyes. Outrage flared and she quickly glanced in Sansa and Joffrey's direction. Jon quickly placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. "It's best we left it to father." He said firmly.

Arya didn't look happy, but eventually acceded. "Fine." She said, and Jon nodded. He looked around to see if he could distract Arya with something, and then he blinked as he spotted someone making his way through the hall towards the high table with some difficulty.

"Arya come with me." He said, pulling on her arm.

"Jon?" she asked in surprise. "What…Uncle Benjen…!"

"Arya…Jon…!" Benjen Stark said with a grin, surprised but pleased to be intercepted by his niece and nephew. Returning Arya's embrace and patting Jon on the shoulder he looked them over. "Look at the two of you, all grown up. Well Jon at least…Arya could use a few more years at the nursery it looks like."

Arya stuck her tongue out at him, and Jon and Benjen shared a laugh. "What are you doing here?" Jon asked. "Sorry, I didn't mean it to come out like that, but I thought that the Night's Watch…"

"Ah, I'm here with the Lord Commander's permission." Benjen said with a wave of his hand. "Greetings to the King, and I've something to talk to Ned about."

"I see." Jon said, and he shared a look with Arya. "Should we lead you there? Arya wanted to talk with father about something, so…"

"Much obliged then…" Benjen said with a nod, joining Jon and Arya as they made their way to the high table. "…still set on the Free Cities lad?"

Jon nodded. "I'm old enough to get by." He said. "And I've got a strong arm. Plenty of opportunity there, and I wouldn't want to be underfoot all the time at Winterfell at my age."

 _Father and Robb wouldn't really mind if I stayed but Lady Stark…well I wouldn't want to put either father or Robb in a bad spot over my presence…_

Benjen nodded sagely in understanding. "Take care of yourself over there Jon." He said. "As you say there's plenty of opportunity in the Free Cities, some might say even more than in all Seven Kingdoms combined, but it's even more dangerous over there too."

"I'll keep that in mind uncle. And thank you."

Benjen smiled and patted Jon on the back, and then they were before the King. They bowed. "Jon…wasn't it?" Robert said blearily through a haze of alcohol, a blushing serving girl seated on his lap much to the queen's distaste.

"Yes it is Your Grace." Jon said. "Your Grace, might I present my uncle Benjen Stark, and a member of the Night's Watch."

"It is an honour Your Grace." Benjen said, and Robert glanced at him before he smiled.

"Ah yes, Benjen…! Ned's little brother…last I saw you, you were still a lad. Yes, now I remember, joined the Night's Watch a while back. So what I can do for you?"

"Well first of all Your Grace I bring greetings from the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jeor Mormont, and his regret at being unable to present himself in person before Your Grace."

"I'm grateful for the greetings…" Robert said, clearly disappointed at only formality being the reason for Benjen's presence. "…and it's understandable for the Lord Commander. You've got your oaths keeping you to the Wall after all and we wouldn't those Wildlings to come swarming down…"

Benjen and Robert (who'd sent the serving girl away with a last grope) talked some more, while Jon kept a discreet eye on Arya as she spoke with Lady Stark and their father. Ned and Catelyn exchanged wary glances after a few moments watching Joffrey and Sansa, and with a stern expression on her face Catelyn rose and headed in their direction.

She did give a most unexpected gesture of gratitude to Jon in passing though, probably for helping Arya come to that conclusion.

 _Unexpected…and not unsatisfying…though I don't imagine Sansa being pleased with either me or Arya later on…_

"So Jon…" Robert began, and causing Jon to return to the present. "…Ned's told me you plan to be heading for the Free Cities soon. Is this true?"

"I…" Jon fumbled, glancing at his father who nodded in encouragement. "…yes it's true."

Robert snorted as he took a drink. "Off to find adventure and fortune eh, lad?" he asked with a surprising tone of envy in his voice. "And maybe true love eh?"

"Well I…"

Robert suddenly laughed and smiled encouragingly at Jon. "It's no trouble at all lad." He said. "By the gods, if only it wouldn't have caused so much trouble I'd probably have done as you plan a long time ago. Instead I'm stuck sitting on that ugly chair in King's Landing surrounded by bootlickers and trying to keep that old bastard Tywin Lannister at arm's length…"

The man trailed off, and Jon looked supremely uncomfortable. "I need you Ned." Robert abruptly said. "As I've said before, the only one I would trust with the position of Hand is you. There's no one else for it, now that Jon Arryn's dead."

Ned was silent for a while and then he looked at Robert. "I thought you said I could think about it?" He asked, and Robert shrugged.

"Just don't take too long, I'll need your answer soon." He said, before turning back to the uncomfortable-looking Jon. "So boy, how do you plan to get to the Free Cities hmm? And what do you plan to do when you get there?"

"Well I…I was going to take ship from White Harbour to Braavos. And after that…well I thought I would take what opportunities I could get."

"Just go with the flow until you see something worth your while, eh?" Robert said with a laugh. "I like the way you think lad. Ah to be young and free again…"

"Thank You Your Grace."

Robert nodded and took a drink. "There's a good lad." He said. "White Harbour, eh…? There's an idea. I was planning to ride leisurely back to King's Landing, but if you're going by ship…"

He glanced at Ned who looked back at him. "I am at your service Your Grace." He said formally. "If you wish it, I could have Lord Manderly prepare ships for the journey back to the capital. It will take time but…"

"Time's not a worry." Robert said dismissively. "It only means I have to stay a bit longer here…it won't be trouble, won't it?"

Ned looked at Robert sceptically. "It is?" he dryly asked, and he and Robert shared a laugh.

"Go on then lad…" Robert said, waving Jon off who bowed and went to re-join Arya at her table. "…fine lad that one, very fine indeed. The same goes for his sister…Arya was it? By the gods, if she weren't so young, I'd think I was looking at Lyanna again, in both cases…"

"Lyanna was a Stark through and through…" Ned murmured. "…Jon and Arya are the same…"

"True…" Robert said with another drink. "…anyway moving on…"

* * *

A/N

A bit obvious who Jon is dreaming of, isn't it? Poor Theon, making jokes of Jon's dreams, naturally Ned's not going to be happy. Not that Ned's ever going to be happy of it, dragon dreams being what they are.


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, names, and any copyrighted material used in this work. This is a fanfic, period. Everything belongs to their respective owners. Comments and constructive criticism are all very much appreciated.

The Return of the Dragon King

Chapter 3

 _The burning sword rose and fell. Its blade pierced the screaming demon's frozen heart, and black blood spurted out, burning at the touch of the flames that wreathed the warrior's sword. The man roared in triumph as he finally brought down the accursed one who had kept the world in darkness._

" _You…you fool! You think you have won? You think my death means something? This victory means nothing! The light will fail again, and darkness shall return!"_

" _Night follows day, just as winter follows spring." The man spat in response to the demon's taunt. "But the opposite is also true, the day comes after the night, and winter gives way to the flower of spring. Such is the will of the Lord, the Creator, and nothing that you or your nameless master will say or do will change that."_

 _The demon screamed and thrashed, but the golden flames freely-lit by the life most precious to the Lord's Chosen were too great even for the Nameless One's champion. Its essence burned away to nothing, its flesh, blood, and bone crumbling to dust on the dying wind._

 _Around the man on the battlefield the walking dead enthralled by the demon burst into flames as one, their tortured spirits released from their twisted prisons into the peace of death. As for the soulless minions of the Nameless One, they fled back into the cold and shadows, the cold light of their eyes and swords slowly vanishing into the distance._

 _Slowly, so too did the snow begin to stop falling, and the sky darkened with night for years beyond count grew brighter. Slowly, but steadily, until at long last, weak rays of light broke over the horizon, as the Sun finally rose once more. The warriors who had survived the battle looked on in awe at the man encased in armour before them, who had broken the unbreakable and won back the day._

 _The man turned to look at them, and then he looked down at his sword, burning with divine fire lit by the life of one to whom his heart would always belong, and who he would never see again save by the grace of the Lord. And he knew as surely as he knew that the darkness would return, just as he knew that another would rise to take his place against the darkness, that he would see her again._

 _That time would come soon._

 _But not yet…he still had a duty to finish, and make certain that the new dawn would not be tainted by what was left of the darkness from the moment of its return. And so he raised his sword, the chanting and cheers of his brothers echoing in the morning._

" _Azor Ahai…! Azor Ahai…! Azor Ahai…! Azor Ahai…! Azor Ahai…! Azor Ahai…! Azor Ahai…! Azor Ahai…!"_

* * *

Jon Snow woke up gasping, and spent a few moments catching his breath before getting up. Judging from the light coming through the flap of his tent, it was still fairly early in the morning, though not so early that he'd be risking a talking to for missing breakfast.

Especially since King Robert had constantly insisted that he eat breakfast with them, and with the rest of his family much to the displeasure of both Lady Stark and Queen Cersei.

" _It's nice I suppose…_ " Jon thought as he put on his clothes. " _…but I wouldn't want to aggravate either of those two too much. Not to mention that Joffrey doesn't seem to like me so much._ "

Clipping his sword to his belt, Jon took a drink of water from a skin before heading out. He'd only taken a few steps before an unpleasant voice caught his attention.

 _Speak of the devil…_

"Well, well, well…" Crown Prince Joffrey Baratheon drawled as he approached. Flanking him were both Robb and Theon, the former smiling reassuringly over the prince's shoulder while Theon just looked amused. Nearby Jon also saw Ser Sandor 'the Hound' Clegane of the Kingsguard hovering protectively. "…if it isn't Lord Stark's bastard. Woke up late today, didn't we?"

"It's as you say my prince." Jon said with a slight bow. He kept the disdain from his face and voice, but the slightness of his bow said enough. Joffrey's sneer grew ever so slightly.

"Didn't your father ever teach you manners? Or if even if he did, didn't they stick, bastard?" he snarled. Beside him Theon grew alarmed, with Ser Clegane coming closer as Robb's face stiffened. Jon's did too. "If you're going to botch the ways things ought to be done, then you might as well have not done them at all. Should I have you flogged, as a reminder to show the proper respect the next time?"

"My prince…" Sandor began with a wary look at the thunderous expression on Robb's face. "…Their Graces await you in the main pavilion. With respect, it would not do to keep them waiting."

Joffrey shot him an annoyed look, and with a scoff and a sneer at Jon stormed off followed by Sandor and Theon. Robb stayed however, and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You alright there?" he asked, and Jon shot him a disbelieving look.

He took a deep breath. "How in the name of the gods do you do it?" he asked.

"Put up with him…?" Robb asked, and Jon nodded. "Don't forget: I'll be Lord Stark for most of that prick's reign. I _have_ to put up with him whether I like it or not."

"For once I'm grateful that I'm a bastard." Jon remarked dryly, and Robb punched him on an arm.

"Prick…" he said, and Jon grinned. A moment later and Robb did too. "…as it stands though Joffrey's attitude might be a problem. If the reports about Aegon Targaryen are true…"

"Reports…?" Jon echoed as he and Robb walked towards the main pavilion. "Robb please tell me you have not been eavesdropping. You know what happened the last time we did that."

"I wasn't eavesdropping." Robb responded. "Father's been letting me sit on a few of his councils for a while now, haven't I told you?"

"No you haven't."

"Oh…" Robb said, suddenly looking and sounding crestfallen. "…sorry…it must have slipped my mind…"

"Don't worry about it." Jon said reassuringly. "I'm not exactly the kind who needs to know what goes in father's councils."

Robb stopped walking and grabbed Jon by a shoulder. "You're my brother Jon." He said. "Nothing will ever change that. You hear me? Nothing…!"

"Robb…"

"Say it with me Jon…" Robb interrupted. "…nothing. You are my brother Jon, and that will never change. No matter what happens, I… **WE** , will always be your family. Winterfell will always be your home, and the same goes for the entire North. You might want to make a name for yourself in Essos, but you are always welcome here, always."

"Lady Stark is not going to be happy."

Robb laughed. "No, I suppose not." He agreed. "Though as I said, I will be Lord Stark. Who I choose to welcome is my business. It's her business if she wants to get displeased, but well I can live with a bit of that."

"I don't want to put you in a bad spot…"

"Enough Jon…" Robb said, placing an arm around his brother's shoulders and again making for the main pavilion. "…now as I was saying…"

"I'd say that father's councils aren't my business…" Jon interrupted dryly. "…but you'll press on regardless, wouldn't you?"

"You are my brother." Robb replied with a grin, and Jon laughed briefly.

"Alright out with it already then."

"As I was saying…" Robb said. "…Aegon Targaryen is – apart from the rumours of him fucking his sister – though that's probably just slander…"

"And even if it isn't…" Jon said. "…he's a Targaryen."

"There's that…" Robb agreed. "…anyway, Aegon Targaryen's supposed to be quite the opposite of Joffrey, quite easy to get along with and very intelligent. Right now he doesn't have much support outside of Dorne, but if Joffrey becomes king and still acts like you saw earlier…well the Dornish and the Reachmen aside, there were plenty of Vale and Stormland loyalists during the last war. If Joffrey pisses off enough of the Seven Kingdoms…"

"…then we're in for a Targaryen Rebellion, much like Joffrey's father and the Blackfyres before them."

"Except that the Targaryens have a direct claim to the Iron Throne." Robb said grimly. "Don't forget: King Robert's claim to the Iron Throne is based on his descent from Aegon the Unlikely through his grandmother."

"That's going to be problematic."

"Understatement of all things Jon…" Robb said as they approached the main pavilion. "…now enough about this: it wouldn't do to talk about the Targaryens in the king's presence."

"No it wouldn't."

* * *

"I heard you had a fight with Joffrey earlier." Arya said, riding closer with Nymeria at her horse's heels.

"Did not…!" Jon protested while Ghost sniffed at the she-wolf following his master's sister. She nipped at him with a mix of warning and playfulness in turn.

"Did so…!" Arya shouted back, and sticking her tongue out at Jon. They were riding for White Harbour, and would be there around noon. They'd have their luncheon with Lord Manderly, and Jon would set sail on one of the trade ships for Braavos in the late afternoon. "Robb told me."

"Robb talks too much."

"He only cares Jon." Arya said with a roll of her eyes. "Especially since you seem to think that once father's gone to King's Landing you won't be welcome in the North anymore. You worry too much: even if mother doesn't like you around, she won't actually bar you from Winterfell, not when you grew up there at _father's_ word. And Robb and the rest of us will always welcome you."

"You know Robb said the same thing earlier."

"Because it's the truth…" Arya said smugly. "…and father taught us never to lie."

Jon laughed. "Yes he did." He agreed.

"See…?" Arya said and Jon sighed.

"Fine…" he said. "…I'll stop worrying that when I come back from Essos I'll find myself cooling my heels outside the gates because I didn't get an invitation to come back."

"You will come back, won't you?" Arya asked and Jon glanced at her. Two pairs of Stark eyes met each other, and not a word passed between the siblings for the next several moments.

"Yes I'll be back." Jon finally said. "I promise little sister."

"When you come back, I won't be so little anymore."

"Probably not…" Jon conceded. "…I'll be sure to come back with a present, maybe dragon eggs or something like that."

"How about a sword of Valyrian steel, like the one father has…? It's more useful than a stupid egg that'll never hatch anyway."

Jon laughed. "Fair enough…" he said. "…still, don't be too shy asking for souvenirs from Essos now."

Arya stuck out her tongue before leaning over and punching him on the arm. "I'll be waiting for you." She said. "So come back alright…?"

"I will. I promised didn't I?"

* * *

"I don't understand." Joffrey said softly to his mother. They were seated at the high table in New Castle at White Harbour. Nearby his father was having a good time with the Lord Manderly, both men enjoying themselves with rich food and Dornish wine. "What does father see in that bastard? And Lord Stark…father's not exactly a paragon in that area, but at least he doesn't keep his little animals in the Red Keep."

"The men of the north are much like the Dornish Joffrey." Cersei responded, her voice just as low to keep people from overhearing. "Where the Dornish are decadent they are barbaric. What the Dornish disdain the men of the north are ignorant of."

"And I would marry a northern lady?"

"Are you displeased with her then?"

"Well no, she's…pretty enough I suppose, and she knows how things are ought to be done. And for anything more, well I'll have you around mother. I'm sure you can teach that northern girl – Sansa I think it was – what else she needs to know."

"Yes…" Cersei said, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "…I can do that. And I will. You deserve nothing but the best my son."

Joffrey smiled as his mother patted him on a shoulder. "Don't worry mother…" he said, unaware of Jon's walking past at that very moment. "…when I'm king, you won't need to worry about those shameful things father's made you put up with all this time. It's as you said mother, all that bastards deserve is to be drowned."

"I'm looking forward to it, Joffrey." Cersei said with a smile. Jon meanwhile took his seat at a nearby table repressing a shudder.

" _Even if they are bastards…_ " he thought. " _…they're still kin. Kin-slaying…am I…are we witnessing the rise of another Maegor the Cruel? Another Aegon the Unworthy…? Will Robert Baratheon be remembered as the Viserys I of the Baratheon Dynasty?_ "

Jon glanced once at the high table. Should he warn the king? The idea made him snort with disdain. Without proof of what he'd heard, there was no point. The queen and the crown prince would deny everything and make Jon look like a slanderer.

And then Robb's words from earlier came back, and he shuddered. The Targaryens' wrath was legendary, even without their dragons. If Joffrey gave them an opportunity to rebel, regardless of whether or not they won, the realm would burn at the hands of the Targaryen dragonlords.

He glanced back at the high table, and then his eyes fell on his father, sitting stoically at the king's right. Perhaps there was something he could do after all.

* * *

"You are certain of this?"

"Father I will admit that the crown prince and I do not see eye-to-eye." Jon said. "But I would not lie about something like this either."

"No…" Ned Stark agreed. "…you wouldn't. Still there's no proof, and it'll be your word against those of the queen's and the crown prince's."

"That's why I came to you father." Jon said. "You are the King's Hand after all."

"So I am…" Ned agreed, stroking his chin in thought. Father and son stood silent in a corner of the New Castle for a few moments, and then Ned smiled. "…what do you suggest then, Jon?"

"Me…? I…"

"You brought this to my attention, and you've given some thought to it. What do you think should be done?"

"An eye perhaps should be kept on His Grace's bastard children…?" Jon suggested after a moment's thought. "Maybe get them someplace safe…?"

"The former is easy to do…" Ned said. "…the latter not so much…though perhaps there might be a way to solve two problems at a time..."

"Father…?"

"Robert's been complaining you see." Ned said to Jon. "About the Lannisters getting too influential at court…"

Jon nodded in understanding. His father had never approved of Tywin Lannister's influence at court, and especially how he'd gotten away with sacking King's Landing and ordering the attempted murder of Princess Elia and her children. That both Jon Arryn and Robert had had no issues with his actions – and Robert marrying Cersei Lannister afterwards – had opened a rift between them, bridged only by their shared grief over Lyanna Stark's death.

"If we can send Joffrey to be fostered like say with Stannis at Dragonstone or with Lord Hoster at Riverrun…" Ned said. "…then maybe he can grow out of his mother's shadow."

"Her Grace could still be a threat to the king's other children." Jon said. "From what I heard Joffrey got his ideas from her."

"I know one of Robert's bastards." Ned said with a smile. "Mya from the Vale…she's a good girl…perhaps if I can get Robert's agreement – and get him in a good mood by having Joffrey grow up outside of the damn Lannisters' influence – then perhaps I can manage to have the rest of Robert's bastard children moved somewhere safe where they can build their own lives freely."

"I suppose that's the best we can hope for."

Ned smiled at Jon. "Sympathy for others like you…?" he said, and Jon looked stricken.

"Father I…"

He broke off as Ned laughed and patted him fondly on the back. "Don't fret Jon…" Ned said. "…I can't blame you if you did. The way you grew up…plenty of bastards would kill for a chance to grow up like you did. That you would think of them speaks well of you. I'm very proud."

"I…thank you father…"

* * *

The trade ship wallowed in the waters of the harbour, Jon rummaging through his pack before his expectant sister. Apart from Arya – who'd talked her father (much to her mother's displeasure) into letting her see her brother off – also present were his father and to his surprise, the king and two of his Kingsguard. Finally Jon found what he was looking for.

"This is…" Arya said while Ned supressed a groan and Robert laughed.

"You were always complaining that you never had a real sword of your own."

"Jon…" Ned began weakly. "…Arya…how long has this been going on?"

"For a while now…" Jon admitted weakly as Arya happily drew her new sword from its scabbard.

"And just how much has your brother taught you, young lady?" Ned asked his daughter.

Arya shrugged. "Stick them with the pointy end…" she said, and Ned groaned as Robert laughed again.

"Oh let it go Ned." Robert barked. "It's not like Lyanna didn't know how to use a sword. She's your sister. And she's your daughter. From the look of things, the apple didn't fall far from the tree."

"That's what I'm worried about." Ned said before looking meaningfully at Jon and Arya who looked slightly-ashamed. "On one hand I'm angry that you kept this from all of us. _You're children_ , in Jon's case until today, and we have responsibility for your wellbeing. On the other hand though, Jon's been trained in the use of a sword, so I'm glad you looked to someone who at least knew what he was doing as opposed to figuring things out on your own. Gods know what might have happened then."

"We're sorry father." The two of them chorused, with both Nymeria and Ghost lowering their heads in sympathy.

Ned sighed and placed a hand on their shoulders. "With that said…" he said while looking at Arya. "…keep it away until we get to King's Landing. Your mother's going to give me an earful if she finds out, and maybe even take it away. But once we get there, I promise I'll get you a proper instructor."

"Really…?"

"Have I ever lied to you?"

Arya's response was to jump and hug her father, who smiled and hugged her back. As she stepped back, he turned to Jon. "I've said this before…" he said. "…and I'll say it again. I've very proud of you, and I wish you all the luck and success you will need in Essos. Just come back and visit when you can. Whether it's me or your sisters at the capital, or your brothers at Winterfell, you will always be welcome."

"Father…" Jon said softly, and after Ned smiled he stepped forward and embraced him like Arya did. "…goodbye, and thank you for everything…"

"You're my son…" Ned said. "…that will never change, no matter what."

Jon smiled, and then turned to the ship as the captain shouted about the shifting tides. "Well…" he said, hoisting his pack as Ghost got to his feet. "…I'd best be off."

"One more thing lad…" Robert said while stepping forward. Jon bowed…and then gasped in surprise as Robert put a cloth bag in his hand. From the weight and feel it was probably full of gold coins. "…just something to help you start with…"

"Your Grace, this is…"

Robert waved him to silence. "You're a good lad Jon." He said. "And I owe your father so many things, things I could never repay. So just shut your trap and pocket it, alright?"

"Yes Your Grace. Thank you."

Robert smiled, and with a silencing look at the ship's captain he turned back to Jon. "Remember lad…" he said. "…you might be a bastard but that gives you something that the rest of us, your father, your brother, the rest of your siblings and even me with that chunk of iron in the capital doesn't have: freedom. You can be and do whatever you want, and make your life as you see fit without anyone telling you otherwise. So don't waste it away, and become someone who you can look back on ten years down the line and be proud of."

Jon looked at the king with surprise at this, and Robert nodded. "Best be on your way lad…" he said. "…the tide's shifting. Good luck and may the gods be with you."

Jon smiled and nodded at the king and his relatives, and with Ghost following boarded the ship that would take him to Braavos and from there to a destiny of his making.

* * *

A/N

Jon is not Azor Ahai reborn he just had a dragon dream of the first Azor Ahai.

I didn't rehash the execution of the deserter, the finding of the wolves, and so on because, well what's the point? It's the same in the book, so why bother? Needle and Arya though, well it's different so I put it here.

It'll be a while before we go back to the Targaryens I want to flesh things out a bit first in the Seven Kingdoms before heading back to them. There'll be plenty of focus on them later on, so for now we stay with the Starks (and maybe the next couple of chapters).


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, names, and any copyrighted material used in this work. This is a fanfic, period. Everything belongs to their respective owners. Comments and constructive criticism are all very much appreciated.

The Return of the Dragon King

Chapter 4

"Stop thief!"

Jon Snow swore violently as he raced down the crowded streets of Braavos, Ghost racing ahead of him after the thief. He'd barely stepped outside of the Ragman's Harbour when he felt his pocket getting picked, and while he couldn't stop the thief from making off with his money bag he was still fast enough to catch a bead on him as he ran off with Jon's money. "Stop gods damn you…!" the bastard shouted.

The thief ignored him, slipping through the milling crowds on the streets and past the stalls and storefronts of the city. Jon Snow and Ghost had a somewhat more difficult time, though the latter's keen sense of smell made sure that they wouldn't lose the thief even if the former lost sight of him from time-to-time.

The crowds naturally paid no attention to the chase going on. Pickpockets and thievery were a perennial problem, and if they got caught then they lost their fingers. But if they weren't and they got away, well that was just another fact of life. Passing irritation as they were bumped aside – by Jon that is, the thief was apparently experienced enough to avoid bumping others as tried to get away – or brief fascination at the big white dog with the one chasing after the thief.

And then they got back to their own businesses.

" _Apathetic fools…_ " Jon thought angrily as Ghost scattered a group of fat and gaudily-dressed merchants while running through them with Jon hot on his heels. " _…they know he's a thief, or at least hear he could be one, so why the hell don't they care? If something like this happened at Winterfell, there'd be a mob looking into it in moments._ "

The thief ran across a square and then around a corner. Jon and Ghost stayed hot on his heels, the thief jumping and running along the canal parapet. He ran past a group of men gathered around a cyvasse board to their surprise, which grew as Ghost darted through them and under the table the board was on.

Surprise turned to outrage as Jon ploughed through the table, knocking it and the board aside in his haste. "Sorry…!" he shouted over a shoulder, wincing at the curses behind him. Fortunately none of them seemed inclined to pursue however, for which he was grateful for. Jon didn't want trouble – too late it seemed – but he'd defend himself if he needed to.

Still, if it was possible he'd rather not draw his sword in anger for as long as possible.

The thief turned another corner, ran along a bridge, and then jumped up onto a trellis to Jon's surprise. He scrambled to a halt, just in time to avoid getting crushed like a bug beneath a fast-moving wagon. The thief scrambled agilely up the wall from the trellis onto the roof.

He turned to smile smugly…only to blanch and start running as Ghost just as agilely leaped up on the wagon, then on the trellis, and up on the roof after him. Swearing some more, Jon followed suit, though much slower and less agilely as Ghost and the thief got further and further away.

" _This is not what I had in mind when I came here!_ " he thought angrily as he resumed the pursuit, jumping from roof to roof along one of the city's larger canals. Most people below ignored him and his quarry, though more than a few noticed.

Thieves getting chased by their victims wasn't new, it actually happened with regularity. What was new – or uncommon enough to be unusual – was the victim to be this persistent or to have a hound on his side.

Whispers and shouts followed their wake, which turned to laughter as a damaged roof gave way beneath Jon and he nearly fell into a room below. A woman taking a bath in said room screamed as Jon nearly fell into the tub with her, barely hanging onto the ruined ceiling. Profuse apologies turned to inelegant haste as a lumbering giant of a man burst into the room at the woman's scream.

" _For gods' sake…_ " Jon thought in exasperation as he scrambled to his feet and resumed the chase. " _…first I get stolen from, then I get involved in a chase across the city, and now I've nearly ended up getting pummelled by a man for dishonouring his wife. What's next, I fall into a canal?_ "

Shuddering at the thought of tempting fate, Jon focused on the pursuit. Meanwhile the thief reached a space too great to jump across. Instead, he used a cloth to slide with along a line connecting two buildings over a smaller canal which intersected with the canal the buildings along which they had been running on. He then cut the line, and gestured cheekily at Jon and Ghost before running off again.

Jon hastily scrambled to a halt, barely avoiding falling into the canal below. And again, Ghost upstaged his master, jumping down and leaping off of the cloth roofs of gondolas below across the canal, and from awning to awning before getting to the roof and resuming the chase.

This however left Jon standing alone on his side of the canal. Jeers and shouts of encouragement came from the street below, and even from few gondolas in the canals. Jon palmed his face before spreading his arms and looking around in exasperation.

" _Now I'm a spectacle…_ " he thought. " _…maybe I should have gone to the Wall instead. At this rate I'll either end up a clown or get stabbed in the back._ "

Spotting a point where the intersecting canal was narrower, Jon rushed over to the point before jumping and sliding down on awnings to the street. Tensing himself, he jumped over the canal, splashing knee-deep into the water while catching himself on his elbows.

Pulling himself back on the ground and ignoring his wet boots and trousers, he ran through the crowd and into an alley. A few jumps and he managed to get up into an awning, and from there it was a slippery scramble up to the roof. Ghost was a white blur in the distance, and ignoring the burning in his chest Jon scrambled off in pursuit to the cheers of spectators below.

" _This is humiliating!_ " he thought angrily. " _I'll gut that bastard for putting me through this!_ "

As Jon ran on a diagonal path across the skyline to intercept the thief, said thief was finally cornered by Ghost. The street on the other side was dominated by a dome-topped building with barred and awning-less windows, surrounded a wall topped with iron spikes.

To his right was the canal, and below the busy streets. Unfortunately for him, he'd begun to tire in the last few minutes of the chase, and along with looking around for options this had allowed Ghost to catch up with him.

The white direwolf growled in warning as the thief tried to move sideways to where he could jump to one of the flat-topped buildings beside the domed one. The man froze, smiling weakly as he did so. No point in antagonizing a big dog that was clearly unhappy at being led around in the middle of the day under a hot Sun.

Worse yet, if he jumped down to the street, the dog would be literally right behind him. He could knife it, but knifing dogs left a bad taste behind. And besides, the crowd seemed to like the unintended show provided them. Knifing one of the 'participants' would be a sure way to turn the crowd into a mob, and he'd no desire to get lynched for either – or both – theft and killing another man's pet.

Speaking of which…the man himself had finally arrived.

"I've…" Jon gasped as he slowed to a halt. "…finally…got…you…"

The thief raised his hands in peace. "Look boy…" he began. "…it's just a living there was nothing personal in it."

"Fuck you…" Jon snapped. "…living…? Why don't you…get a job…instead?"

"Yeah, as if things are that easy." The thief responded with a roll of his eyes.

The man's smile vanished as Jon placed a hand on his sword's hilt. "I want my money back." Jon said.

"You know I can't give it back." The thief said, taking a few steps back. From the look of things, he might have to take his chances instead. "All's fair in love and war…and are you sure you know how to use that boy?"

Jon narrowed his eyes…and then he lunged forward. The thief moved to dodge, but Ghost lunged in from the side, and the man dodged back…and right into Jon's path. Both found themselves falling back…and tripping over the edge and through the air to the stony street below.

Both shouted in fear as they fell…and landed in a passing hay cart. Rolling out of the cart onto the ground, the thief was first on his feet, getting into a crouch…and taking a punch from Jon that broke his nose and sent him tumbling with the audible sound of breaking bone.

Jon scrambled to his feet, the thief doing likewise and trying to scramble away despite a broken nose. Jon launched himself at the thief, catching him by the waist and forcing the man to the ground. An elbow to the cheek forced Jon to let go, and the thief finally managed to scramble away, but not before Jon was able to get his money bag, snatching it from the thief's pocket.

A smattering of applause came from the crowd at the successful conclusion of the chase, Jon getting to his feet as Ghost sat down beside him. Suddenly he hefted the money bag a few times.

 _No…no, it can't be!_

Opening the bag with desperate haste, he poured out the contents…and angrily threw away the gravel followed by the bag itself, stamping down on it in anger. " _Gods damn him…!_ " Jon thought angrily, running a hand through his hair.

Ghost whined in sympathy, and Jon reached down to pat his friend on the head. Around them the crowds were going back to their business, the brief excitement he'd provided over. The boy and his wolf stepped out of the way of another wagon, the former's anger turning into consternation as he looked around him at the busy streets of Braavos.

No money…and unless he found a way to get some soon, he and Ghost would probably have to spend the night in the streets. And that came with no food too…and a risk of getting knifed or worse by thieves and other cutthroats in the night.

" _Yeah…_ " Jon thought exasperatedly. " _…I should have gone to the Wall._ "

A flash of light reflecting off of metal caught his attention, and Ghost got to his feet and growled as three men in armour approached Jon. "Ghost…" Jon said. "…heel."

The direwolf did as commanded, though it remained tense as the armoured men came to a halt before Jon. "Can I help you fellows?" he asked.

"Someone would like to have a word with you." One of three told him in accented Westerosi. "We'd like you to come with us."

Jon sighed. The crowds might have liked the chase, but from the look of things the authorities didn't. And while he disliked the fact, it seemed he had to face the music otherwise he'd be no better than the dirty thief who'd stolen his money.

"Very well…" he said, reaching down to unclip his weapon. To his surprise the man raised a hand to forestall him.

"There's no need for that." He said. "As I have said, someone wants to talk to you."

Jon blinked and then slowly lowered his hands. He nodded and the guards escorted him away with Ghost following in their wake.

* * *

" _What the fuck is going on?_ " Jon thought.

He'd expected to be led someplace…well, official. He never expected to be led to a boat, and from there rowed to a barge sailing sedately in Braavos' great canal. Said barge was clearly of the highest make, the wood finished and varnished to a polished shine, its prow and stern, railings and parapets ornately carved and in some cases gilded or even _jewelled_ , while brightly-coloured streamers and pennants hung down from the mast or trailed from the barge's rails.

On closer glance, the men who'd escorted him and those who guarded the ship were all finely-dressed beneath their armour from what he could see of their clothes. Their armour was also finely-made, more ornate but clearly on par with what his father's household guards had, and the same went for their weapons.

The barge's crew too reflected this. At first glance they were typical sailors, burly, uncouth men going about their duties half-dressed in the heat. A closer glance would reveal fine, handsome faces and sculpted forms, clearly chosen to be attractive or presentable even when working half-dressed (or both), all the while still being capable of doing what was expected of them.

" _What the fuck is going on?_ " Jon thought again, and then he was being led away by a young woman in colourful (but clearly fine) servant's attire further into the barge.

The bastard found himself led to a large interior chamber partly-lit by sculpted lamps that threw shaped shadows against the walls, decorated with hangings of the finest cloth and make, along with priceless vases carrying the freshest flowers or polished crystal containers filled with water in which swam multi-coloured fish from the depths of the sea. Sunlight shone through artfully-constructed windows that let viewers see without being seen themselves, while his feet sank into rich and expensive carpets.

Ornate decanters with distilled spirits or ice water rested on polished plinths within easy reach, along with priceless goblets. Censers burned with incense, rendering the air pleasantly half-smoky. Jon looked around for vents to explain how they (and he) couldn't choke with all the incense in the air but he found nothing.

What he did find were that the occupants of the room were all comely young women, most around his age while others were a few years older or younger than he was. They all reclined on soft silk cushions and pillows, swathed in flowing silks that exposed enough skin to titillate and inspire the imagination while preserving modesty all at the same time.

Jon felt the blood begin to drain from his face as he realized where he was. Beside him Ghost whined, his tail between his legs. The girls giggled at the sight, whispering and muttering among themselves as they watched him fidget.

Behind her silken screen – enough to obscure her features and details but thin enough to allow an outline to be seen – the courtesan raised herself up on her elbows. "So…" she said in a voice like silk. "…you're the boy who caused such a commotion from earlier."

"I apologize for the ruckus caused my lady…" Jon began only to trail off as the courtesan began to laugh. It was like listening to water splashing merrily in the Sun.

"Why do you apologize?" she asked. Despite the screen, Jon _knew_ she was smiling. "Foreigners arriving…people getting robbed…tricked…thieves getting chased…it happens enough that it's nothing new. But you don't see them getting chased over the rooftops every day…or with big white wolves."

Jon started at that, and the courtesan laughed again. With a gesture she dismissed her guards, leaving an alarmed Jon alone with her and her ladies. "Don't worry…" the courtesan said teasingly. "…we don't bite…and I won't ask you how much your friend is worth. Friends are priceless are they not?"

"As you say my lady…"

The courtesan's smile grew, and with a gesture her screen parted to expose her to Jon's eyes. The poor boy could literally feel the blood going to his cheeks as he took in her delicately-tanned skin, generous but proportioned curves, her rich smile, dark-brown hair, and violet eyes. Sheer silk provided her with the barest modesty, but otherwise her form was free to be admired by the eyes of any beholder.

"My name is Siesta, boy." She said, a finger swirling in a pot of something powdery beside the cushions she reclined on. "What's yours?"

"J-Jon…" Jon stammered out. "…Jon Snow…"

"Ah…" Siesta said. "…so you're from the Sunset Kingdoms. The North if I'm not mistaken."

"As you say my lady…"

"There's no need to worry. You will find that here in Essos, things like 'bastard' are mere formalities. Necessary encumbrances at times yes, but meaningless most of the time. You are what you have dared to achieve."

"I…see…"

Siesta laughed. "So nervous…" she said. "…so…tightly…wound-up…come now Jon, there's no need to hold back. Feel free to admire what lies in front of you. Admiration is the purest form of flattery after all."

Jon blushed like never before, trying to keep himself in control by thinking of his sister Arya. It seemed to work…to an extent. The girls' soft laughter around him was a major distraction. "So…" Siesta began again, taking a handful of powder in one hand and tracing patterns with it with a finger of her other hand. "…what brings you to Essos? Business…? Family…? Love…? Or perhaps…is it opportunity?"

Jon swallowed dryly before licking his lips. "O-o-opportunity, my lady." He answered, and she smiled at him.

"You are a very interesting person, Jon Snow." She said. "I am…very curious about you. I've heard it said in your Sunset Kingdoms magic is seen as having died with the Valyrians' dragons."

"I…I wouldn't know my lady."

"A shame…" Siesta said. "…but you know what: I might have had you brought here to thank you for adding a touch of…spice to an otherwise ordinary day, but now that I've seen you, I think…you have…a touch of…destiny about you."

With a delicate breath she sent the powder swirling in hypnotic patterns through the air. "Jon Snow…" she said. "…would you like to work for me? The starting pay is equivalent to one gold dragon of your Sunset Kingdoms per day, and includes both food and board. Weapons, armour, and clothes too. So how about it…?"

Again Jon licked his lips. "What…" he said. "…what would be expected of me?"

"Obviously you'd be expected to stand guard for me and my friends." She said. "When we have need of things to be done too important for mere servants, then you may be called upon to perform them. Some time, and you may even serve as our…agent in calling upon our friends in high and low places both. So how about it…? Opportunity is what you seek, and here a door opens in front of you. Will you turn away?"

Jon opened his mouth and closed it, looking around him. The girls were silent, looking at him expectantly. "The choice is yours, Jon Snow." Siesta said. "If you decline, I won't hold it against you. I'll even have you brought back to shore with a…gift to convey our…gratitude at having entertained us this morning."

Jon thought furiously, fighting the sweet distraction of the incense in the air, and thinking about the offer. On one hand, working for a courtesan wasn't exactly the most…honourable – or manly – calling in the world. His father would probably disapprove, and his sisters (Arya especially) certainly would.

Robb and Theon would probably laugh at him, with the latter calling him lucky for striking gold.

Lady Stark wouldn't give a damn, and if she did it would be in the southward direction (as usual).

On the other hand, courtesans were no whores. From his lessons with the maester, courtesans did provide sexual favours, but at _their_ will and not of their clientele. They provided more than base pleasure, in the form of music, dance, conversation, and more civilized entertainment. To be associated with by a courtesan was seen as a mark of favour and honour.

To be known as a servant of one would undoubtedly open doors in Braavos, and perhaps connections further down the line if he worked hard and well. And while Jon wanted to earn a name with good and honest work, Siesta was right: an opportunity was in front of him. It would be folly to turn it down.

Still…

"Just a question…" he said softly, and Siesta's lips curled indulgently.

"Go on…"

"Should I desire to leave your service will I be able to do so?"

Whispers broke out at that, and a disappointed expression appeared over Siesta's face. "Now why would you want to do that?" she asked. "Oh very well…I can't imagine what would make you want to abandon us – I'd like to think of all my servants as my friends – but should you choose to do so, you may. There are no slaves in Braavos. With that said, should you choose to do so, at least give us the dignity of a goodbye, won't you?"

Jon nodded and bowed. "Then my lady…" she said. "…my sword is yours."

Siesta laughed. "Such formality…" she said. "…well from the look of things you've only recently-arrived. There'll be time for you to get used to Essos soon enough. Peppo…?"

The doors opened, revealing a girl of around Jon's age with long, curly brown hair in servant's wear. "Madam Siesta?" she asked.

"This is Jon, Jon Snow." Siesta said. "He's our newest friend. He's your responsibility for now, so show him around and how things are done."

"As you wish madam…"

"Oh and one more thing: Jon, do you know how to speak Low Valyrian?"

"Uh…no, I don't…"

"Hmm…well that will be troublesome…" Siesta mused aloud. "Peppo, teach him."

"Me…? I…yes madam"

Siesta smiled, leaning back on her cushions. "You may go Jon." She said as her screen fell back into place. "And don't forget: destiny is a fickle thing. You must grasp it, but you must also think about what you grasped lest instead of a sweet rose you find yourself grabbing a viper. You have chosen wisely earlier, but that is merely one of many choices you will encounter."

Jon bowed and allowed Peppo to lead him away. The servant took him to a launch tied against the ship, and which took them to shore. "Well…" she said along the way. "…I guess first things first we'll need to find you lodgings. After that we can go about getting new clothes for you, as well as the routine you'll need to follow. And of course, learning how to speak Valyrian…"

Jon sighed. Things had seemed so simple when he'd left Westeros. He'd go to Braavos, become a sellsword, hire himself out to someone respectable, and get started on a good reputation to work with for the rest of his life. Now though…? He'd been hired by a Braavosi courtesan, and while it offered a good reputation from the start along with many open doors down the road…

…why did he feel dissatisfied?

 _Have I been tricked or something? Was it the smoke?_

"Ser Jon…?" Peppo asked, and Jon jumped in surprise before looking at her.

"Nothing…" he said with a sigh. "…you just surprised me. And please don't call me 'ser'. I'm not a knight."

 _Maybe I should have gone for a knighthood instead._

Jon sighed again and smiled at Peppo. "Anyway…" he said. "…let's get along shall we, Miss Peppo?"

Peppo stared at him, and then suddenly smiled. "Miss…" she echoed. "…just so to avoid confusion later…I…I'm actually a boy."

Jon stared…and stared…and stared. Ghost suddenly whined, and Jon buried his face in his hands.

 _Father is not going to believe this._

* * *

A/N

Poor Jon…he gets pickpocketed, made into a clown, tricked, and then shanghaied into working for a courtesan. And then Peppo turns out to be a boy. Or is she?

Seriously, this chapter is a bit whimsical but considering how dark things will eventually get – people _will_ _ **burn**_ and die – it's nothing wrong to have a bit of comedy at the start. And Jon's off on a good start…I think…

Next chapter will be Ned and King's Landing.


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, names, and any copyrighted material used in this work. This is a fanfic, period. Everything belongs to their respective owners. Comments and constructive criticism are all very much appreciated.

The Return of the Dragon King

Chapter 5

King's Landing stank.

" _Still…_ " Lord Eddard 'Ned' Stark of Winterfell and Warden of the North silently reflected. " _…it's better than ash and smoke on the wind._ "

The last time he'd been in King's Landing, passing through on his way to Winterfell to return his sister's body home, the city had been freshly-sacked by the Lannisters. The corpses had been cleared away when he'd come, but the odour of blood and smoke had lingered in the air, while every block and street had at least a few burnt-out buildings.

" _Threats though they might have been…_ " Ned thought at the memory. " _…and threats they still are, at least we did not have the corpses of Elia Martell and her children on top of all the dead Tywin Lannister reaped from the city._ "

He had gone to war for the sake of justice and family, not to kill helpless women and children. The realm had had enough of that with Aerys and his son, and he supressed a shudder at the memory of Robert's rage upon learning of the Targaryen children and their mother's escape. Would he have rejoiced had Lord Tywin offered him their corpses? Would he – Ned – still have seen Robert as a friend, a _brother_ , afterwards?

" _Jaime Lannister…_ " he thought to himself. " _…most call him the Kingslayer, others as oath breaker…do I have to thank you for preserving Robert's honour? Our friendship…? Our brotherhood…?_ "

Ned sighed, looking around him as he rode with the rest of Robert's retinue towards the Red Keep. Now though, the city just stank, the streets teemed with people held back from their way by the City Watch, and the buildings were if not clean, at least _alive_. That was an improvement at least.

"…the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want."

Ned glanced at the loud voice, spotting a red-robed preacher with flames tattooed on one side of his face down a street, a book in one hand as he preached to a small crowd from a makeshift podium of stacked boxes. "A red priest from Essos, my Lord Stark…" Ser Balon Swann, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard answered his unspoken question. Ned glanced at the Lord Commander questioningly.

"A few years back a small number of them arrived from Essos bringing gifts for His Grace, and asking leave to be allowed to preach their faith here in Westeros." Balon continued. "His Grace wasn't and still isn't interested in their faith, but felt generous enough to give them leave."

"Red priests…they are flame worshippers are they not?"

"Quite so my lord…" Balon said with a nod. One of the younger members of the Kingsguard, his appointment both to the honoured brotherhood _and_ his being named Lord Commander had caused something of a stir, but Robert had held firm. And with all other members of the brotherhood either unsuitable for the role of Lord Commander – Ser Arys Oakheart being from the Reach while Ser Mandon Moore was too unpopular – or were Lannister appointees, Ned had to agree: Balon was the man for the job.

He had the skill, he was from the Stormlands (his father Lord Gulian Swann of Stonehelm had fought with them during the rebellion), and he had the image for it. Now only if there were less Lannister men in the brotherhood…

"…I myself have little interest in their faith…" Balon continued. "…and the same goes for the lords in the city and the rest of the Crownlands. Shame that the same can't be said for the smallfolk though: from what I hear plenty of the poorer ones and even many of the well-to-do ones across this part of the realm have turned from the Seven to their 'Lord of Light'."

"Men have the freedom to choose what they believe in, Lord Commander." Ned reminded him, and the knight chuckled.

"My apologies my lord…" Balon said, remembering that as one from the North, Ned himself did not believe in the Seven, and placed his faith in the Old Gods instead. "…I meant no offense."

"None taken…" Ned said with a reassuring smile. "…just as they have the freedom to choose what to believe in and defend that choice – within reason – you as well share that same freedom."

"Change isn't something to fear, eh?" Balon said. "Well I suppose so long as they don't cause trouble, they aren't to worry about."

"I agree Lord Commander." Ned said, turning his attention back to the road and the Red Keep in the distance. And behind them, the red priest continued to preach to his flock and to any other who would listen.

"…even though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for you are with me…"

* * *

The welcome feast was in full swing, and to Ned's dismay – shared by the queen apparently – Robert was not only drunk and gorged on wine and food in short order, but had already begun whoring away. Right now all he was doing was flirting with or groping the serving women, but it wouldn't be long before he left with one – or more – of them for his bed.

"Are you not enjoying yourself, my lord…?" Prince Stannis Baratheon of Dragonstone mentioned.

"It's not that." Ned responded. "It's just that…this is all…much grander than I'm used to. Celebrations at Winterfell are usually much more low-key than this."

The dour, brooding man nodded. "I wouldn't mind something much more low-key myself." He said, and Ned smiled. That was so very much like Stannis, and in its own way it was quite reassuring.

"Where is your brother?" Ned asked. "Renly is Master of Laws, isn't he? I saw him earlier but he seems to have disappeared." Stannis snorted before responding.

"He's probably run off with our good-brother to 'talk' in private." Stannis said with heavy disapproval, and Ned glanced with sympathy at Renly's wife Princess Margaery, who was currently seated with and chatting with Queen Cersei.

"Poor girl…" he whispered, and to his surprise Stannis nodded in sympathy.

"Aye, I agree." He said. "She's much too good for that foolish little brother of mine. Hopefully she can raise Steffon right. He's still a babe, but hopefully he'll grow up to be a worthy lord for Storm's End."

And wasn't that the truth? Despite being Prince of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, to say nothing of being Master of Laws for the Seven Kingdoms, Renly largely left the running of the Stormlands to his seneschal (and to an extent his wife) and all but neglecting his duty as Master of Laws.

Ned could understand why Robert would want someone he could trust on his Small Council. After all if you couldn't trust your own family, then who could you trust? With that said Renly was much too…flighty for lack of a better word to hold such a post. Storm's End was his by right (what with Dragonstone having gone to Stannis), but surely someone better could have been found for the post of Master of Laws?

Even if Robert couldn't trust the Dornish or the Reachmen, or give the Lannisters an opportunity to increase their influence at court, surely there were plenty of trustworthy lords from the Vale, the Stormlands, or the Riverlands who could be given the post?

"At least he did his duty to father an heir…" Ned murmured, and again Stannis snorted.

"So he did…" he said. "…though it is rumoured that our good-brother was present during the wedding night…"

Stannis trailed off, and after several moments he sighed. "My apologies my Lord Stark…" he said. "…it seems that the wine's gotten to me. It is below our station to exchange gossip and rumour is it not?"

"Quite so my prince…" Ned agreed. The two sat and ate in silence for a while, and then Ned spoke up once more. "…my prince…what would say if I propose that our crown prince be fostered at Dragonstone?"

Stannis froze for the briefest of moments before giving the smallest of nods. "Robert's expressed concern you see." Ned said. "He believes that his son is…constrained in his education and experiences."

"And as Hand it is your duty to respond to his concerns?"

"Quite so my prince…"

Stannis said nothing for a while, instead swirling the wine in his glass. "I suppose I could host my nephew at Dragonstone for a couple of years…" he said at last. "…it would be good for him, a chance to broaden his horizons and to learn more about duty and honour."

"With that said…"

"Aye…" Stannis said with a nod. "…the question will not be if Robert will agree, but if our good queen will."

"Might I count on your support on that ground?"

Stannis raised his glass to Ned in response. "You're a man of duty and honour my lord." He said. "You may, of course, count on my support."

* * *

Morning light shone through the windows into the Small Council, Ned Stark entering the room wearing the necklace of chained hands of his office, and followed by the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Already present were the Master of Laws Prince Renly Baratheon of Storm's End, the Master of Coin Lord Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish, Master of Ships Prince Stannis Baratheon of Dragonstone, Master of Whisperers Lord Varys, and finally Grand Maester Pycelle. With Ned and Balon's arrival, the Small Council was complete.

"Lord Stark…" Renly said with a warm smile. "…it's good of you to join us."

"My apologies for being late my lords…" Ned said as he took his place at the seat reserved for the Hand. "…I spent too long over breakfast with my daughters, for which I have no excuse."

"Oh that's no problem at all…" Renly reassured him. "…it's not like we're at war or anything. To be honest, I prefer a more relaxed lifestyle myself."

"Yes well…" Ned responded. "…rest assured it won't happen again."

"I'm sure it won't Lord Stark." Stannis said with a nod, and Ned nodded back.

"Now then…may I ask where His Grace is?"

"Ahem…" Varys cut in delicately. "…His Grace only attends Small Council meetings on the most important matters otherwise he trusts our judgment with regards to the governing of the realm. My apologies Lord Stark, you should have been informed beforehand. Rest assured I will personally ensure that you will not be caught ignorant of such matters again."

"I…see…" Ned said with a deep breath. "…with that said and understood, as the Hand of the King I open this meeting of the Small Council."

The other councillors nodded, while Ned took one out from Jon Arryn's many notes that he'd brought with him from the Tower of the Hand. "Very well…" he said. "…as our first matter of business we have here a recent invoice from the Iron Bank, with regards to the realm's standing debt of…three million gold dragons…"

Ned trailed off and looked around the Small Council. Most of them directed their gaze to the Master of Coin who smiled disarmingly to only minimal effect. "Yes well…" he said. "…our expenses over the past decade and a half – largely on rebuilding from the damage of no less than two large-scale revolts – have taxed the realm's finances greatly. And there are also other costs to keep in mind such as upkeep for royal properties, pay for royal retainers such as the Royal Fleet and the City Watch…"

"And to cover for all those expenses we have incurred a total of three million dragons in debt…?"

"Correction…" Renly said. "…the realm is _six million_ dragons in debt."

"Six million…?"

"Three million to the Iron Bank…" Petyr clarified. "…and an estimated one million each to Houses Lannister and Tyrell, as well as to the Faith…"

Ned Stark was struck speechless. He had expected having _some_ debt given the turmoil of the past decade and a half, but _six million_? This was madness.

 _Not to mention how despite his distrust for the Reachmen Robert's not above borrowing money from Mace Tyrell._

Ned took a deep breath. "Lord Baelish…" he began delicately. "…do not expect me to believe that my predecessor was unaware of the depths of this problem, or did not at least attempt to resolve it."

"I would not ask that of you my lord." Petyr replied. "My Lord Arryn along with Prince Stannis brought up this matter with His Grace several times."

"And what did he say?"

"He said not to bother him over 'counting coppers'." Stannis said.

"More like 'counting dragons'…" Ned growled, irritated at his friend's neglect of something so important. "…I'll speak with Robert myself afterwards over this matter. Lord Baelish I assume you submitted a proposal to Lord Arryn with regards to solving this problem?"

"Unfortunately not my lord…" Petyr said. "…Lord Arryn only entrusted me with keeping the realm's finances going, not actually resolve them. I assumed he had his own plans on the matter, though if you wish I could have a proposal ready for you in a couple of days."

"Make it so…" Ned said, shuffling his notes. "…Prince Stannis I'd appreciate it if you could accompany me when I see Robert over this issue."

Stannis nodded his assent, but Renly snorted in derision. "Good luck with that…" he said. "…you're going to need it."

Stannis glared at Renly, opening his mouth to retort but was pre-empted with a cough from Ned. "Yes well…" he said, clearly trying to be conciliatory and avoiding having the council bog down with infighting. "…now that the debt issue is…resolved for now, let us move on to our next topic of discussion. Now according to my predecessor's notes, he was aiming for another attempt at a marriage alliance with Dorne?"

"That is correct Lord Stark." Grand Maester Pycelle said, speaking up for the first time. "Lord Arryn believed that the best way to heal the wounds of the past and bind the kingdoms together under His Grace and his successors would be through mutually-beneficial bonds of matrimony."

"If only the Dornish thought so too…" Ned murmured.

It wasn't the first time Jon Arryn had tried to forge such a bond with Dorne (as he would later do with the Reach through Margaery and Renly's wedding). Four years ago he'd tried to arrange a marriage between Lord Hoster's heir Edmure and Prince Doran's heiress Princess Arianne. Prince Doran had expressed neither support nor opposition, though he had allowed Jon Arryn and Lord Edmure to court Arianne at Sunspear.

To be fair to Jon Arryn, it wasn't a bad idea. The West was already bound to Robert through Cersei, the Riverlands through Catelyn and Ned, Lysa and Jon Arryn (thus including the North and the Vale), while the Stormlands would follow Robert without question. Had the marriage gone through, along with Renly's later marriage to Margaery Tyrell it would have deprived the Targaryens and their remaining followers any highborn support they would need to make a successful restoration.

Unfortunately Jon Arryn had underestimated Dorne's cunning. True Prince Doran had disowned his second child and eldest son Prince Quentyn and two of his brother Prince Oberyn's bastard daughters for going to Pentos and swearing their swords to the Targaryens, but as with all things Dornish and the Targaryens it was just a matter of show.

Disownment could easily be reversed later on, without care for lost face.

House Martell and their vassals had sworn oaths to House Baratheon, and renounced support for House Targaryen…but they could easily break those oaths and offer their spears to House Targaryen when the time was right. Again, any lost face would not be cared about.

It was like with Daeron the Young Dragon. The Dornish had offered truce, and had broken truce to kill the king, with no care for lost face. Why would they care now?

The Dornish had lost the opportunity to see a Dornish Queen through Elia Martell, but they would settle for the Dornish-blooded Aegon Targaryen. The unfortunate thing was, as treasonous such intentions were there was hardly proof of it.

Prince Quentyn…Lady Obara…Lady Nymeria…they had been exiled on pain of death by Prince Doran himself. Their involvement with House Targaryen could thus be said not proof of treachery on House Martell's part, merely as individual initiative.

However as for Princess Arianne…

 _Why should I who am due to become Princess of Dorne and thus equal to any Lord Paramount, lower myself to become a mere consort of one?_

The princess' refusal had utterly humiliated both House Tully and Jon Arryn, and by extension Robert and all who stood by him. And the worst part was that Princess Arianne was well within her rights to ask such a question.

As per the privileges granted by Daeron the Good to Dorne, she was the next ruling princess of Dorne. Even Tywin Lannister had grudgingly expressed approval of her defence of her rights and privileges as any highborn heir should. That House Martell had earned the utter hatred of House Tully and even more distrust from King's Landing meant nothing to them in their deserts.

" _And why should they?_ " Ned thought bitterly. " _It cost the Young Dragon ten thousand men to conquer Dorne, and fifty thousand more to_ _ **try**_ _and hold it. Why should we fare any better? This isn't a matter of smashing ships at sea and storming and sweeping islands clear of opposition. The heat and the sand will break our men, and those that do not will die by Dornish spears and blades._ "

"Prince Trystane and Princess Myrcella…" Ned said aloud. "…it's not a bad idea, it's not like the prince will be surrendering any inheritance of his own, though it might be best if we slow things down a bit."

"Meaning what exactly…?" Renly asked.

"As much as I respect the late Lord Jon Arryn…" Ned said. "…I have to admit he might have rushed things and pushed the Dornish too far too soon when he tried to arrange a marriage between Lord Edmure and Princess Arianne."

"So what do you suggest then?" Stannis asked.

"Rather than sending or bringing Myrcella to Dorne…" Ned said. "…we should send envoys to negotiate this matter over time. Compared to our financial issues, the Dornish aren't that pressing."

"They are borderline Targaryen loyalists my lord." Stannis pointed out, and Ned nodded.

"So they are." He agreed. "With that said we already have all six of the other kingdoms firmly on our side. Even if the Targaryens manage to get to Westeros…"

"They won't." Stannis said grimly. "If they try, then I'll personally have them experience what the last of the Blackfyres did during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. If they want to live, they will stay in Essos."

"Quite…" Ned said. "…but my point is with six of the kingdoms on our side, even if the Dornish revolt we can wear them down over time, and eventually bring them to the negotiating table."

"You won't be taking war to them…?" Petyr asked.

"The Dornish lands are fundamentally-unsuited for prolonged combat my lord." Pycelle said. "A quick campaign is possible, but such a quick campaign would not be able to root out any and all opposition. The Dornish however are adapted to their homeland, and would not be affected to the same extent – if at all – by the desert as our men would."

"Long story short Littlefinger…" Stannis said. "…why don't you go look up the life of Daeron the Young Dragon?"

Petyr Baelish's smile turned wooden, but he said nothing. "I trust there are no objections to pursuing a marriage alliance in the long-term with the Dornish?" Ned asked, and was answered by six shaking heads. "Excellent…let us move on…"

* * *

"The answer is no Ned."

Most of the Small Council's other issues – reports of pirates in the Narrow Sea off the coasts of the Vale, unrest among the mountain tribes (also in the Vale), petitions from various lords, knights, and commoners across the kingdoms and the like – were dealt with quickly and with less trouble. Before the council was dismissed however, Petyr Baelish brought up something Robert had decided.

Apparently Robert had got into his head that he – Ned – needed a tourney to celebrate his becoming Hand. Apart from the expenses of preparing and conducting the event, there was also the prize money: one thousand gold dragons for the winners of each event.

Money that the realm could not afford to throw around, not with all the debts it was burdened with.

"It's ridiculous, you will have to borrow even more money from Tywin Lannister or the Iron Bank among others to fund it. It's a waste of money." Ned insisted.

"Nonsense Ned!" he responded and it was all Ned could do not to roll his eyes.

"If you want me to help run your kingdoms then you need…" Ned began only to be interrupted.

"The tourney's happening Ned…" Robert said with finality. "…whether you like it or not…"

Ned stared at Robert for a long moment, and then with a sigh gave a bow. "As you wish Your Grace…" he said, ignoring Robert's resulting protests over overbearing formality.

 _Gods…I've got my work cut out for me._

* * *

A/N

Yes, Arianne gave STAB a big middle-finger. Hard to blame her really: why should she become just a Lord Paramount's wife, when as Princess of Dorne she's equal to any one of them? She might even be their social superior, at least by our standards, given a Lord Paramount could be said to equal a duke while the Prince/Princess of Dorne could be equal to one of our sovereign princes or a German _furst_ , who to my knowledge outrank mere dukes.

Stannis acting a bit OOC…? Nonsense…he covets Storm's End, but he doesn't have a son, so even if he had Storm's End, his heir would still be Renly's son Steffon (by agnatic primogeniture). So he doesn't really resent Steffon (that he's named for their father could be another factor) and actually _hopes_ that he'll be worthier of the ancestral seat than Renly is.


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, names, and any copyrighted material used in this work. This is a fanfic, period. Everything belongs to their respective owners. Comments and constructive criticism are all very much appreciated.

The Return of the Dragon King

Chapter 6

"Dany…!"

Princess Daenerys Targaryen looked up from where she was sitting at a table under a tree in Magister Illyrio Mopatis' inner court. She smiled at the approaching figure of Princess Elia Martell, and made room for the older woman beside her. She also nodded at Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard, who nodded back before staying at a respectful distance. "Studying Westerosi politics I see." Elia observed with a glance at the books and notes Daenerys had with her.

Daenerys nodded. "As Viserys says…" she said. "…even if I won't be sitting on the Iron Throne, given what's happened over the past decade and a half or so, the people Aegon will have to count on the most will be his own family. And to do that…"

"You need to know how things work if you're going to be giving advice and sitting on Aegon's councils in the future." Elia concluded, and Daenerys nodded.

"Yes." She said. The two princesses stayed silent for the next few moments, the Targaryen continuing with her studies. And then Elia spoke up.

"You're worried about it, aren't you?" she said. "About marrying one lord or another to secure Aegon's throne…?"

"I'd be lying if I said no." Daenerys replied. "I've always known it'd be that way, and the same goes for Aegon and Rhaenys but still: I can't help but worry about marrying someone I hardly know."

Daenerys paused and then looked at Elia. "Did you feel the same about Rhaegar too?" she asked, and Elia blinked before giving her answer some thought.

"Yes…" she eventually said. "…don't get me wrong, I was still young at the time, and like all girls at that age the idea of marrying a prince was _very_ alluring. But even so, given the rumours that were already going on about your father…no offense…"

"None taken…" Daenerys said with a mix of reassurance and sadness. "…I know all about my father's madness. Even if Brandon Stark's threatening my brother _was_ treason, what was done to him was cruel beyond compare. And Rickard Stark could not have been held liable for his son's words, the latter was already a man full grown, and his actions were made on his own accord in my father's hall."

"And of course…your mother…"

"Yes…" Daenerys whispered. "…Viserys still talks of her from time to time…she was sweet and kind, in a mournful way he says…"

Elia nodded in agreement. It was a known fact that in his more pensive moments, Prince Viserys Targaryen would reminisce aloud about his mother, the late Queen Rhaella Targaryen, and how she had tried to shield him from the increasing madness and cruelty of his father. At the time he hadn't understood why his mother would keep him from his father as much as she could.

Now he understood, and thanked her for it…and lamented that she could not have done the same for Rhaegar as well.

Elia did too. "Rhaegar was…kind in his own way…" she said softly. "…he was a good man, even if he spent so much time with his books and scrolls…and of course that damnable prophecy of his…"

"Harrenhal…" Daenerys said, and Elia nodded.

"The prophecy…his father's madness…and of course Lyanna Stark…"

Daenerys glanced at Elia, though the other princess' face was carefully clear. "She was beautiful I have to admit that much." She said. "A cold beauty so typical of the men of the north…between that and everything that came before…"

"It drove him mad." Daenerys said, but to her surprise Elia shook her head. "You didn't think he was mad…?"

"All Targaryens are mad." Elia said to Daenerys' surprise. "But madness isn't always a bad thing. It simply means that one has the ability to look beyond the ordinary and the mediocre, to envision something greater and the means to reach it. Just look at Aegon the Conqueror: after the Doom of Valyria and the breaking of the power of the dragonlords, as well the seeming perpetual constant of the Age of the Hundred Kingdoms, who could have expected he'd succeed in forging Westeros together into the Seven Kingdoms…?"

Elia smiled at Daenerys. "I'm sure that you and Viserys will be just as great in your own way…" she said, taking the younger princess' hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "…the madness of your father in your blood, I'm sure you'll be able to see and go beyond it."

Daenerys laughed at that. "I'm not sure whether I'm reassured or not…" she said. "…when I'm told that to beat my father's madness, I have to be even madder than he was…"

Elia laughed too. "Point…" she said. "…maybe I could have worded that better…no matter, I'm sure that you and Viserys will be around for Aegon in the future."

"You'll be there too." Daenerys said. "You're his mother, and while Viserys and I will be there, he'll trust you more. And Rhaenys too of course…"

"He's like his grandfather that way…" Elia said softly. "…though given Rhaenys has always adored her 'little dragon' I imagine it'll end better for them."

Daenerys was silent for a moment. "Did you see something in the flames?" she asked, and Elia looked surprised before shaking her head with a smile.

"You know I don't hold to Melisandre and her…forgive me, your Lord of Light." She said. "I guess I'm just too old to turn from the Seven now. Though that might cause some trouble later on…"

"I'm sure Viserys and Lord Tyrion have already figured that out and planned for it." Daenerys said. "You know how those two are. Still, why do you speak as though…as though…?"

"As though I won't be there…?" Elia finished, and Daenerys nodded. "To be honest I don't really know. Melisandre hasn't seen anything in her flames, and I most certainly haven't been having dragon dreams…but…"

"But…?"

Elia smiled. "I'm still Princess Daenerys' descendant." She said. "I guess…despite what King Aerys used to say all the time, the dragon's blood still runs true, if a bit thin."

Daenerys was silent, and Elia looked up at the sky through the leafy canopy above. "I know that Rhaegar was right and wrong all at the same time." She said. "He was right, because Aegon is the prince that was promised whose is the song of ice and fire. He was wrong, because the three-headed dragon wasn't referring to the rebirth of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters, but merely to their family."

Elia paused and looked at Daenerys. "I don't need to see anything in the flames." She said. "Something is coming: I can feel it in my blood. Good or ill I do not know, only that my son and House Targaryen behind him will have to face it. That is the prophecy of the three-headed dragon and the prince that was promised."

Daenerys looked away for a moment. "So why…?" she asked.

"I do not know." Elia said. "Or maybe as they say, even if one can see the future one can also never see one's own future…?"

"You worry too much."

"So Ser Jaime says…"

"Ser Jaime is wise." Daenerys said with a small smile. "He did his duty, no matter what others might say."

To his credit Jaime kept his face composed despite Daenerys speaking about him in such a way. Elia smiled and nodded. "Anyway enough about that…" Daenerys said, placing a marker into her book and closing it. "…I'm sure you didn't come here to talk about such grim matters."

"Who knows?" Elia said playfully. "I might have just wanted a sympathetic ear."

"I don't mind giving that but still…"

Elia laughed and with a flourish pulled out a folded piece of parchment that she handed to Daenerys. She unfolded it and quickly read it. "A wedding invitation…" she said. "…between Magister Jarrion Orthesian and his third wife, the day after tomorrow…"

"It would be rude not to attend." Elia said. "We have been…'guests' of a Pentosi magister for years now, and we have been cordially invited by his associate. Magister Illyrio says his spies haven't found anything suspicious, and we will be allowed to bring the Kingsguard along. Of course, our host will be coming, and he'll be bringing Unsullied and poison tasters with him."

"And so will all the magisters and other Pentosi notables present…" Daenerys said. "…the Usurper would be mad to attack or even poison such a gathering. A single mistake either way could lead to…collateral, and needless to say Pentos – and possibly its Braavosi overlords – would not take kindly to that."

"Viserys said something like that earlier."

"And what about your children…?"

"Aegon and Rhaenys had some misgivings…" Elia admitted. "…though they gave in eventually…after all, it's not the first time we've been invited and attended one of these things."

"They had misgivings then too, now that I think about it."

"With that said though…" Elia said. "…being careful isn't a bad thing either. Oh well, we'll just have to be careful."

"So we should be…" Daenerys said, gathering her things before getting up. "…and so we always are…now then, given we've only until tomorrow, we should start making preparations for the wedding, shouldn't we? That's the real reason you came to see me, didn't you sister?"

Elia smiled and also got to her feet. Daenerys glanced at her clothes and wrinkled her nose. "Though…" she said. "…you wouldn't mind if I changed into something more appropriate first, wouldn't you?"

Elia laughed. "No…" she said. "…I would not."

* * *

"It's laughable."

Tyrion Lannister looked up as he read the latest report from their man in King's Landing, and towards Viserys as he leaned against the wall next to a window. "Does Ned Stark actually think marrying Prince Trystane to Myrcella will be enough to keep Dorne from supporting us when the time comes?" he asked.

"Ned Stark lacks political discernment." Tyrion said. "The Small Council as well, and no doubt they've grown rather short-sighted and overconfident with their recent success against Greyjoy and binding six out of seven kingdoms to the Usurper and his confederates through marriage."

"The whole point Jon Arryn tried to marry Princess Arianne to Edmure was for them to gain a hostage." Viserys said with a smirk. "After all, she can hardly stay at Sunspear when her husband's realm is to the north, isn't it? That a bond of marriage is formed is secondary to that."

"One could say that their overconfidence goes back long before the present then." Tyrion remarked. "Did they really think Dorne wouldn't see through such a ruse?"

"With that said though…" Viserys said, beginning to pace. "…the Usurper is supposed to have a fleet of between two to three hundred ships even without the Redwyne and Lannister fleets. And the Golden Company is currently at Myr. It's quite obvious that any invasion of ours would be aiming for Dorne, and they'd have ample time to move their fleet to prevent us from crossing at the Stepstones. And we hardly have a fleet of our own to contest Stannis Baratheon at sea."

"I shudder to think of the price we'd have to pay to get any one of the Free Cities to lend us their fleets against the Usurper's." Tyrion said, and Viserys nodded. "Though perhaps we don't need too…"

Viserys stopped pacing and glanced at Tyrion. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Tyrion smiled. "According to our friend…" he said while waving the dispatch with one hand. "…the Vale is increasingly unstable. Pirates off of the coast, unrest among the mountain tribes, and of course, the growing madness of Lysa Arryn…"

"You would seek allies among them…?" Viserys asked sceptically. Tyrion snorted.

"My apologies for the misunderstanding my prince…" he said. "…but I would not mock you and your family with wasted effort. However, they may be of use in drawing Stannis and his fleet north instead of south."

Viserys narrowed his eyes and stroked his chin in thought. "Yes…" he said several moments later, nodding his head. "…a few whispered rumours here and there, perhaps provoking a revolt at Crackclaw Point…"

Viserys paced some more, and then he stopped. "We'll have to think on this some more…" he said. "…but it's a workable addition to our plans for restoration."

Tyrion nodded in agreement, and then went back to the dispatch. "About Prince Trystane and Myrcella…" he began.

"Your concern for your niece is understandable." Viserys said. "And while I'd like to get my nephew's opinion first – he will be king after all – in my opinion we'll let Prince Doran handle this matter. With one condition of course…"

"Myrcella joins Trystane at Sunspear." Tyrion said, and Viserys nodded with a smile.

"Assuming they marry before the war begins, a hostage she will be then and after…" the prince said. "…a hostage that wants for nothing…!"

"Better than the Silent Sisters or the sept…" Tyrion said softly. "…and it will allow us to give the image of being both generous and merciful. That assumes of course, if they're not married before the war begins, she will…"

"As I said I will speak with Aegon on this matter…" Viserys interrupted. "…but yes, I had not considered this beforehand. Short-sighted on my part I suppose, but I would not claim to be perfect."

"You would still have her marry Prince Trystane after the restoration…?"

"As you said, it will give an image of being generous and merciful…" Viserys said while pouring a pair of glasses of wine. "…and it will also have the added advantages of gaining a hostage against the Usurper's confederates, while keeping her with people we can trust."

"In return she keeps the royal title of princess…" Tyrion said while taking the offered glass of wine. "…and considering how Dorne treated Princess Daenerys during the reign of King Daeron II…as you say she will want for nothing."

Viserys merely smiled, and Tyrion smiled back. "To your health, my Prince of Summerhall…" he said with a toast. Viserys toasted him back.

"And to you, my future Lord of Casterly Rock…"

* * *

"Does this make me look fat?"

Aegon groaned and palmed his face. "You don't seriously expect me to answer that." He said, and Rhaenys turned away from her mirror to look at her brother over a shoulder.

"As a matter of fact I do." She said with a small smile, purple eyes glittering with mischief. "And if you answer wrong, you'll be sleeping alone for the rest of the month."

"We sleep alone most of the time."

"Fine…" Rhaenys said with a shrug. "…then I won't share your bed for a month."

"You play dirty Rhaenys." Aegon accused her, and she laughed at him.

"Just answer the question Aegon."

"No…" Aegon said. "…because no matter what answer I give it'll be biased, because no matter what you're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Rhaenys snorted. "Flatterer…" she accused her brother, and this time it was Aegon's turn to laugh.

"It's still the truth though." He said, and Rhaenys smiled before walking over to where she'd draped a cloak the colour of blood over a chair. She pulled it over her shoulders, the cloak along with the girdle – also coloured like blood – adding further touches of colour to the sleeveless, red-trimmed dress of purest black that she wore.

"How do I look?" she said, turning to her brother. Aegon looked her over. The dress showed off her curves and along with her tanned skin masked her toned muscles – from learning how to use a sword, how to ride, how to shoot a bow and many other skills a dragonlord would need to know before going to war – while providing her with appropriate modesty. Golden anklets and bracelets added further colour, though to most people she still looked as though she were going to a funeral as opposed to a wedding.

Not that it would be held against them this evening: black and red were Targaryen colours after all.

"Beautiful…" Aegon said with a smile, and Rhaenys smiled back before walking closer. Giving her brother a peck on the lips, she locked an arm with him and together left her chambers.

" _You my little dragon…_ " she said, speaking in High Valyrian. " _...look positively ravishing tonight._ "

" _Who's the flatterer now?_ " he replied in kind, and she laughed.

"It's the truth." She said, and he smiled.

"I'm sure it is." He said.

It was. The crown prince cut an impressive figure in a red, long-sleeved shirt trimmed with black, a black doublet, and black boots and trousers. A dragonglass dagger with a gilded hilt hung at his waist in a ruby-decorated scabbard, a cloak of blood-red that matched his sister's own draped over his shoulders.

Unlike Rhaenys though, who inherited dark, Rhoynar hair from their mother, Aegon had the gold-silver hair of their father which added a touch of brightness to his otherwise grim appearance.

The crown prince and his sister made their way to the outer court, arriving at the same time as their mother did. Elia was dressed more modestly (if in the same grim colours) than her daughter, though she made a motherly adjustment to a stray lock of her daughter's shoulder-length hair.

Nodding at Aegon she proceeded to her horse. Daenerys was dressed similarly to Rhaenys, though her hair was styled elaborately, whereas her niece preferred to keep it long and simply tied-back. Viserys and Tyrion were dressed alike, though in the case of the latter he wore Lannister colours of red and gold as opposed to the princes' black and red.

The Kingsguard of course, wore plain clothes beneath their armour. Theirs was to serve, and anything that didn't contribute to that was needless waste. The Targaryens mounted their horses, the Kingsguard falling into a protective cordon around them. Unsullied did likewise around them, the magister on his litter, and before and after.

The gates of the compound were opened, and the dragonlords, their host, and their retinue went out into the city.

* * *

The Sun began to set, heralding the end of the day and the coming of the night.

In a large, well-furnished shrine within Magister Illyrio's compound, the sorceress-priestess Melisandre began evening services. Usually (though not always) the Targaryens would be present – especially Rhaenys Targaryen who was very religious despite not outwardly appearing so – but tonight the ones present were Melisandre, her acolytes, and servants with nothing to do for another hour.

Melisandre did not begrudge the dragonlords missing a few services ever so often. They had a life to live and lead after all, and with it came conflicting obligations.

But they honoured the Lord of Light whenever they could, and as Melisandre and brothers and sisters of the faith often preached, the Lord of Light was merciful and generous. He would forgive lapses, and if he could, then so should she.

Life after all, was the first great gift of the Lord, freely given to all so that they may enjoy the world the Lord had created for them.

Tonight the dragonlords went to attend a celebration, and Melisandre prayed for their safety before the sacred flame, lit and kept alight by magic. The Targaryens were the key against the coming darkness, and though the time had yet to come for him to be revealed to the world, one of them would be the Azor Ahai, who would save the world from an eternity of night and evil.

Would he be one of them? Or would he be one of their children?

Melisandre did not know, the visions of the flames blurred, though she knew that she must support and follow the dragonlords as they sought to reclaim their kingdoms, lost to them by treachery and the misguided actions of one of their own, driven mad by the whispers of the Great Other's servants.

It was a shame that Princess Elia did not allow herself to be converted, though Melisandre knew she had allowed her children to follow their aunt and uncle's example because deep down, she knew it was right.

" _The dragon's blood still runs true, if a bit thin._ " The princess' voice whispered through the flames as Melisandre led the prayers to the Lord of Light. Around her in a great circle stood her acolytes robed in red as she was, while behind them the others participating in the service stood in devout silence.

Golden flames flared high from the bronze basin resting on the bronze tripod, the priestess' red eyes widening as she saw images in the flames. She saw a small man dressed like a lord speaking to a servant, giving him commands and gold after which the servant scurried off to the lord's satisfaction.

She saw a gathering of lords around a fat man crowned in gold, feasting and drinking in a great pavilion.

And she saw flames…a city beyond the flames burning before its gates…a dark shadow looming overhead with scales the colour of night, and then…more flames…black flames that consumed everything…

…and then a voice…a man's voice from the flames before the vision ended.

 _Your name shall be Balerion, Balerion the Reborn._

* * *

A/N

Daenerys Targaryen was a daughter of Aegon IV. She married Prince Maron of Dorne, and is Elia's ancestor. In that little way, she's a dragon herself, and more like Rhaegar than she'd care to admit.

Yes, Viserys is Prince of Summerhall given Aegon is Prince of Dragonstone, and damn what Robert likes to think. Dragons will return eventually, much like in canon.

Finally, Melisandre OOC…? In canon she strikes me as somewhat desperate, knowing the apocalypse is coming with only a couple of years before winter to prepare. Here though, she's spent over a decade nurturing the Targaryen dragonlords (among other preparations). She's getting impatient, but nowhere near as desperate that she would commit the things she did in canon, and acting more like other red priests like Thoros or that high priest of the red faith in Volantis.


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, names, and any copyrighted material used in this work. This is a fanfic, period. Everything belongs to their respective owners. Comments and constructive criticism are all very much appreciated.

The Return of the Dragon King

Chapter 7

The wedding celebrations were in full swing in Magister Jarrion Orthesian's compound. The compound was raised along one side of a hill, looking down over the city to the sea below. High walls protectively-surrounded the main buildings and the outer courts, which in turn surrounded the inner court.

The light of lamps and torches shone over the gathered guests in the rear court, open to the starry night sky and the cool sea breeze, the latter offset by a number of bronze braziers filled with glowing coals. The guests – fellow magisters, merchants, ship captains and admirals, priests and priestesses, personal friends and notables, the Targaryens, knights and sell-swords among others – mingled with each other between tables covered with the finest linen, presenting silver platters of finger food while servers went to and fro with trays to relieve guests of empty glasses while presenting a variety of glasses of wines and spirits from as far away as Dorne and Volantis for their continued pleasure.

The wedding and the evening banquet that had followed had been held in the inner court, the magister presenting his guests with a sumptuous feast that featured no less than twelve varieties of fish and meat each, along with freshest fruit and delicacies not just from the Sunset Kingdoms and the Free Cities but also from locales as far away as the shores of the Jade Sea. Needless to say, it was obvious the magister was taking the opportunity to show off his wealth along with his beautiful, jewel-bedecked bride (who also happened to be at least three decades younger than he was).

It was only after the banquet that the guests were guided to the rear court to mingle in lamplight, with drink and finger food provided with pleasure. Most of the gatherings' conversations were inane in nature, the women exchanging friendly (and not so friendly) gossip while the men jested with each other. Others were more serious: merchants discussing their fortunes and plans, captains and admirals over the movement of pirates in the Narrow Sea and beyond.

Apart from the gatherings of the guests, a small group of professional musicians plied their trade, their instruments providing a musical background to the gathering. A number of couples took advantage of this to dance with each other in the court's central space, watched by many of their fellow guests.

Magister Jarrion for his part held court in a large balcony overseeing the rear court, other magisters and notable doing likewise in other rooms of the house. Nothing too serious would ever be discussed of course: at best they were all friendly rivals there, and at worst they had only been invited to avoid offering slight and starting a feud.

Still, as was the nature of the rich and powerful, they would gather into individual cliques to show-off their connections and might.

Among Magister Jarrion's court were Crown Prince Aegon and his sister Princess Rhaenys. "If I might ask my prince…" one of their host's fellow magisters began. "…how goes your quest to reclaim your throne?"

Aegon smiled smoothly. "It goes as well as might be expected." He said. "The cracks in the Usurper's reign steadily grow, and the rest is a matter of time."

"A matter of time you say…?" the red-cheeked, fat-bellied magister who clearly had had too much to drink echoed. Magister Illyrio narrowed his eyes ever so slightly in alarm before discreetly glancing to Aegon. The Targaryen to his credit kept his pleasant smile.

"I had nothing to do with the death of the traitor Jon Arryn." Aegon said while swirling the wine in his glass. "And neither did the rest of my family. If the Usurper cannot even protect the stoutest pillar of support he has, well now, that speaks ill of his reign's…resilience."

There were thoughtful murmurs at that, and Aegon drained his glass with a smile. A moment later and he spoke up again. "Of course…" he said while letting a servant replace his empty glass. "…there is still a chance for the Usurper and his confederates proving more able than expected. In that case….well there's still Volantis."

"Volantis…?" a magister echoed in surprise, and Rhaenys chuckled.

Eyes turned to her, and an approving glance from Aegon was the cue for her to speak. "It cannot be denied that House Targaryen is the last of the forty dragonlord families of Old Valyria." She said with a smile as pleasant as her brother's. "I do not doubt that if we had sought refuge in Volantis, we would have been granted residency within the Black Walls."

Eyes went wide and murmuring erupted, and Aegon briefly closed his eyes. "There are four dragonlords alive…" he said with a sip of wine. "…two for two sons and two for two daughters of Old Volantis and the Three Sisters. A new Valyrian Freehold arisen on fire and blood…"

The crown prince trailed off, purple eyes shining with reflected light, and the magisters present exchanging glances at the thought of what such an eventuality portended. And yet…there was opportunity there. Volantis was second only to Braavos in power and might, but combined with the Three Sisters…

…it could not be denied: the four southernmost of the Free Cities held Valyrian blood highly, and the Targaryens were the purest and highest of them all. And should the dragonlords unite the southern cities in such a way unseen since the last, halcyon days of Old Valyria…

…could Braavos itself be overthrown? Could Pentos regain the power and prestige it had once wielded before it had been forced to submit to Valyria's bastard daughter?

As magisters they were used to seeing things as their interests first, and Pentos' interests second, save where the two coincided. But weak as it was, there was still pride there, pride from Pentos' origins as a colony of the Valyrian Freehold, when Braavos' existence was tolerated only because of its distance from the homeland, and its lack of overt defiance to the dragonlords.

Thoughts of vengeance against Braavos were broken as Aegon chuckled. "But that is unlikely…" he finally said. "…so unlikely as to be impossible…"

" _What is impossible?_ " one magister thought. " _That the Usurper would endure…?_ "

" _Or your family bringing together Valyria's daughters to reclaim their mother's glory and might…?_ " a second magister thought.

" _But if you did that…_ " Illyrio thought. " _…wouldn't the Fat King move against you? The Usurper hates your family…the Sunset Kingdoms and Braavos together…could a fledgling Freehold overcome them?_ "

"The Usurper won't last long." Aegon said. "The cracks are already there. The staggering debts he has incurred…the incompetence of his council…rampant intrigue…unrest within the kingdoms…individually none of those are fatal but together…"

"It is only a matter of time." Rhaenys concluded, and Aegon nodded.

"Just as a predator patiently waits for the right time to pounce on his prey…" he said, replacing his half-empty glass and Rhaenys' own with full ones. "…so we will wait for the right time to deliver retribution of the Usurper and his merry band of traitors."

Aegon raised his glass. "I will not forget this city and its masters' hospitality." He said. "Once things are in order, I do not think I will not be disposed to mutually-beneficial relationships between this city and my kingdoms."

For a moment there was silence, and then the same magister who had earlier questioned Aegon burst out laughing. "Gods yes…!" he said, raising his own glass. "I'll drink to that! To your coming reign and to a profitable relationship between us…!"

The tensions were displaced, and the gathered magisters laughingly responded to the crown prince's toast. The ideas of a new Freehold…revenge against Braavos…even the idea of a profitable relationship in the future…all of them were forgotten, set aside as alcohol-inspired jests and nothing more.

Illyrio Mopatis did not however. Instead he quietly gazed at the Targaryen siblings as they bantered with his fellow magisters. " _Whether it's the Sunset Kingdoms…_ " he thought to himself. " _…or Volantis…either way it's clear your ambitions go further than simply reclaiming your throne, Aegon Targaryen._ "

The magister pulled his beard thoughtfully. " _Then again…_ " he thought. " _…didn't one of your forebears say that madness and greatness are merely two sides of the same coin? Which are you, mad or great?_ "

* * *

Elia Martell stared at the offered hand, and then at the knight's face. And then with a slight blush she nodded, and taking the offered hand allowed Ser Jaime to lead her to the dance floor.

Their hands went to where they were supposed to go (and to Elia's amusement she noticed a slight tremble in Jaime's hands), and then they began to dance the motions of a waltz. And from there, it took only a few moments before the princess winced as Jaime's foot stepped on her own.

"S-sorry…" the knight stammered, and Elia smiled at him.

"It's alright." She said, and the danced resumed. Barely two steps later and he stepped on her foot again, and again he apologized. Elia sighed, pulling Jaime along…only for him to step on her foot again. "Did you forget the dance lessons you surely took in your youth Ser Jaime?"

Jaime grumbled incoherently under his breath, and Elia laughed in good nature. "Normally a man should lead the lady…" she said, taking the lead. "…in this case though…it'll be our little secret, alright Ser Jaime…?"

"I beg of you my princess." He answered mockingly, and again she laughed. Elia took the lead, and this time the two of them were able to dance without one stepping on the other's foot every few moments. And from the side, Ser Barristan and Prince Viserys watched with others among the guests.

"Is this really alright my prince?" the old man asked the younger one.

Viserys took a sip from his glass. "Prince Lewyn had a paramour didn't he?" he asked, and Ser Barristan started.

"My prince…how did…?"

"I didn't." Viserys said with a satisfied smile. "But I know the rumour, and your reaction confirmed it."

Ser Barristan took a moment to regain his composure, and then he turned back to the dance between Jaime and Elia. Jaime being Jaime, it only took a short time of coaching from the princess to dredge up nearly-forgotten dance lessons from his youth in Casterly Rock, and from there his skills in footwork as a swordsman were quickly adapted to dancing, retaking the lead.

The princess quickly relinquished the lead back to the knight, the knight in white and the princess in black and red catching the eyes of everyone present. It wasn't long before the other dancers gracefully ended their dances, withdrawing to the side and leaving the floor to the two of them.

They didn't notice, with their eyes only for each other.

At the side, Viserys smiled sadly. "Rhaegar would probably be turning in his grave at this." He said. "Though considering what he did…"

The prince trailed off, and Ser Barristan glanced at him. After a moment the prince shook his head. "My good-sister deserves to be happy." He said. "Ser Jaime is a good man, better than my brother was in some ways…even if it must stay hidden…"

The prince trailed off again, and Ser Barristan nodded. "Aye…" he said softly. "…he's a good man…better than me…they all were…Lewyn, Jonothor, Gerold, Oswell, Arthur…"

Viserys looked at the old man beside him. The knight's face was carefully neutral, but there was regret there, and sadness, as he watched his brother dance with one of their wards. "You are too hard on yourself, Lord Commander." The prince said, and Ser Barristan smiled bitterly.

"If Ser Jaime had not defied the Usurper on that day…" he said with his eyes downcast with shame. "…if he had not invoked the memory of our brothers…I would have stayed in King's Landing with bent knee towards the Usurper…"

"Perhaps…" Viserys conceded. "…but in the end you did not…that alone earns you a choice to atone for a brief moment of failure…"

"Brief…" the knight echoed softly before smiling and raising his eyes back to Elia and Jaime. "…yes, it was brief, but I will give what life there is in these old bones of mine to atone for it until the day I die. Then maybe…just maybe…my fallen brothers will welcome me in the next world without shame…"

Viserys sighed and placed a hand on Ser Barristan's shoulder. "To admit your sin is to have no sin…" he said. "…so says the Lord of Light…"

"Thank you my prince." Ser Barristan said, and Viserys nodded before removing his hand. The dance continued for several more moments, Elia and Jaime's movements slowing, gracefully and beautifully as the music slowly and softly reached its end. As they stilled, their eyes remained fixed on each other, with only the sound of applause from around them breaking the spell.

Their eyes went wide, but before either could panic Ser Jaime stepped back with a sad smile, all but one of Elia's hands falling to her side. Bowing from his waist, Ser Jaime pressed her lips against her other hand, and as he rose and let go, Elia stepped back, and slightly lifting her dress gave a graceful curtsy to the knight.

Viserys nodded and toasted his good-sister as she and Jaime left the dance floor. She started, and then glanced up to their host's court. Aegon and Rhaenys were there, smiling for her, and just like their uncle gave her a toast.

Elia blinked and then looked away with a smile and a blush, and then went on her way.

* * *

"So…" Rhaenys began while leaning against the rail. Behind her brother the rest of the magisters continued to speak among themselves about matters that did not pertain to her or her brother. "…mother and Ser Jaime…"

"It's always been obvious…" Aegon responded. "…even if they'd never actually made a move on each other all this time. I wonder why though."

"Do you really?" Rhaenys asked, and Aegon smiled and shrugged.

"I suppose it's obvious." He said. "They both respect father's memory too much. I guess this is as far as it will go."

"But…" Rhaenys said, a note of sadness entering her voice. "…is it alright for it to end like this?"

Aegon looked to her quizzically. "Father…well he's dead." Rhaenys said. "Mother doesn't really have an obligation to him anymore, does she?"

"Really now…" Aegon said with a smirk. "…that coming from you?"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Rhaenys shot back.

" _Now that Margaery is out of the way…_ " Aegon smugly quoted in High Valyrian, flustering his sister. " _…you're mine little dragon, and I won't let anyone else have you Dornish blood or no._ "

"T-t-that's…"

"Oh relax…" Aegon said. "…I'm just teasing you. You have a point I suppose, didn't Jaehaerys the Wise's mother remarry after her son reached his majority? It's the same thing with mother. The only problem is…"

"Yes…" Rhaenys agreed. "…Ser Jaime is of the Kingsguard. Letter-wise a paramour is acceptable, but anything more than that…"

"Still…" Aegon said while stroking his chin. "…would that make them happy? Secrets like that…they tend to fester and turn to poison in the end, don't they?"

"Not necessarily…"

"Is it?" Aegon interrupted, looking at his sister. "If it were another woman, then I probably wouldn't worry, even if Ser Jaime is a member of the Kingsguard. But mother is a princess, and more than that _she's our mother_. You can see where I'm getting at, don't you?"

Rhaenys didn't answer at once, and then she nodded slowly. "Yes…" she said. "…as a knight of the Kingsguard, it wouldn't be appropriate _at all_ for him to be in a relationship with our mother. And even if they kept it secret…well secrets have a tendency to leak out, even if only as rumours."

"And I don't want mother to bear that kind of burden on her shoulders." Aegon said sadly, and Rhaenys glumly nodded her agreement.

"Neither I…" she said. "…what a shame…"

"It really is." Aegon said. "Still, it seems that mother and Ser Jaime have the good judgment to keep things like this. It's sad but, this really is the furthest they can go."

"So we'll trust in their judgment for now?"

Aegon glanced at his sister. "Do you object?" he asked, and she smiled before shaking her head.

"No…" she said, craning her head up towards the stars. "…I'll believe in them too."

Aegon smiled and nodded, and then looked up at the position of the stars and the Moon. "It's getting late…" he said. "…perhaps we should return before it gets too late."

Rhaenys too checked the positions of the stars and Moon, and then nodded her agreement. She gestured. "Nymeria…" she said, and the knight approached from the corner she was standing in. "…inform the magister that perhaps we should return before the streets get to empty."

"Yes my princess."

Nymeria saluted and made her way to the magisters. She waited for Magister Illyrio to finish with his current topic and turn to her before she gave the princess' message. The magister turned towards the Targaryens who nodded at him. He nodded back, and then turning back to his colleagues began putting his affairs for the night in order. Aegon gestured for Quentyn and Obara.

"Which of you will inform Viserys and the others?" he asked.

"I'll do it." Obara said. "Quentyn, stay here with Nymeria and accompany the prince and princess."

Quentyn nodded, and Obara walked off as Nymeria returned. It took a few more minutes for the magister to finish his farewells, and accompanied by a pair of Unsullied he joined the Targaryens and made for the outer court. "Did you enjoy the festivities, my prince?" he asked as they walked through Magister Jarrion's mansion.

"I did." Aegon replied. "The banquet earlier was heavier than I'm used to though. No offense intended, magister."

"None taken…" Illyrio replied. "…then again, such a feast would only be suitable in terms of expense at times like these. Otherwise it would be needless waste."

"Indeed…" Aegon agreed with a nod.

"If I might ask…" Illyrio began. "…will you be holding such a celebration in time?"

"Perhaps…" Aegon said with a small smile. "…however considering what I know of the finances of the Seven Kingdoms, and of course the needs of war, it is rather unlikely."

"Ah…" Illyrio said with understanding. "…a shame…"

Aegon shrugged. "Needs must…" he said.

"It's as you say, my prince."

The magister, the Targaryens and their guards walked in silence for the rest of the way to the outer court. There they found the rest of the Kingsguard and their family waiting for them, along with the rest of the magister's guards and retinue. The Targaryens exchanged nods before mounting their horses and the guards took their positions, and passing through the gates made for home.

* * *

A/N

Mostly Jaime and Elia fluff, though as explained by the characters nothing will really happen between them. There's just too much in the way. It's sad, but then again ASOIAF isn't a fairy tale with a 'happy ever after' ending (if it is then GRRM's a bloody troll), and neither is this story.

But wait, there's more: what about Aegon and Rhaenys? If they can get together, why not Jaime and Elia…? Aegon and Rhaenys are Targaryens, the lords might not like it, but among Targaryens (dragonlords in general really) brother-sister incest is expected. A knight of the Kingsguard having an affair with the king's widowed mother…? The outcry (or if there isn't then the social pressure/stigma resulting from it) would tear them apart. I've no intention of tormenting them like so.


End file.
